the  Jean  Ingelow 


BIRTHDAY  BOOK 


THE  UNIVERSITY 


OF  ILLINOIS 


LIBRARY 


From 


the  collection  of 
Julius  Doerner,  Chicago 
Purchased,  1918, 


■vu  <?-■?-  ~?6  — v y /j) 
>//>rv5  ? 


^Cyvi-ocx]  - / 


THE 

JEAN  INGELOW 

iJtrtpag  JSoofc. 


A birthday  : — and  now  a day  that  rose 
With  much  of  hope,  with  meaning  rife  — 

A thoughtful  day  from  dawn  to  close  : 

The  middle  day  of  human  life. 

A Birthday  Walk. 


2 


Tfci:  LIBRM 

§F  THE 

univebssty  of*  kmm 


THE 


JEAN  INGELOW 

'Btrtfttiap  OBooIt 


BOSTON 

ROBERTS  BROTHERS 

1882 


tu  LIB  ml 
OF  TH£ 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILUOM* 


4 


? 


- 


- 


^aituarp 


It  was  in  the  Arctic  winter,  and  the  frozen  snow  was  as  hard 
as  stone ; it  glittered  and  sparkled,  for  the  stars  were  bright 
overhead,  and  the  moon  was  at  the  full.  It  was  high  tide,  and 
the  waves,  of  a deep  leaden  gray,  were  rearing  up  their  great 
crests  and  flinging  themselves  down  with  a thundering  noise  on 
the  shore. 

At  a distance  you  might  hear  the  screaming  of  sea-birds,  as 
they  skimmed  with  their  white  wings  over  the  water;  and  along 
the  skirts  of  the  icebergs  you  might  see  the  foxes  prowling,  and 
catch  in  the  twilight  the  fiery  glitter  of  their  tawny  eyes. 

Besides  this  there  was  no  sound  — no  movement ; everything 
in  that  starlit  night  was  desolate.  The  world  was  turning  round 
under  those  stars,  for  they  shifted,  as  it  seemed,  their  places ; 
and  the  moon  was  riding  on  through  the  millions  upon  millions 
that  make  up  the  Milky  Way;  but  beyond  this  movement 
there  was  no  change  in  the  heavens  from  hour  to  hour,  and 
there  was  no  change  or  movement  beneath  them — everything 
was  perfectly  white  and  utterly  still. 

Did  I say  it  was  white  ? So  it  was  a moment  ago  ; but  it  has 
changed!  The  whole  world  and  the  heavens  have  undergone 
a change!  There  is  .a  quivering  in  the  sky  — a swift  spire  of 
flame  shoots  across  the  stars.  Another!  There  is  a deep  glow 
in  the  zenith,  like  a half-transparent  crimson  cloud.  It  spreads 
out  suddenly  ; then  it  quivers  j it  sinks  downwards  ; it  is  like  a 
pennon  of  fire  shaken  in  an  angel’s  hand.  Nowit  divides — it 
multiplies  — and  flushes  a more  rosy  red;  it  trails  itself  out 
before  the  stars,  and  floats  across  the  moon  like  a veil  — a won- 
derful veil ! The  whole  heavens  are  red  with  it ; and  the 
earth,  which  was  white,  has  put  on  a crimson  blush — every 
iceberg  has  a crimson  edge  and  every  wave  has  a crest  of 
crimson  foam. 

Stories  Told  to  a Child . 


5 


702442 


t — ’ — ■ — January  i — 

O,  let  me  be  myself ! But  where,  O where, 

Under  this  heap  of  precedent,  this  mound 
Of  customs,  modes,  and  maxims,  cumbrance  rare 
Shall  the  Myself  be  found  ? 

O thou  Myself,  thy  fathers  thee  debarred 
None  of  their  wisdom,  but  their  folly  came 
Therewith  ; they  smoothed  thy  path,  but  made  it  hard 
For  thee  to  quit  the  same. 

Honors. 

' 

— — — January  2 — 

The  logs  burn  red  ; she  lifts  her  head 

For  sledge-bells  tinkle  and  tinkle,  O lightly  swung. 

“ Youth  was  a pleasant  morning,  but  ah!  to  think 
’t  is  fled,  [was  young.” 

Sae  lang,  lang  syne,”  quo’  her  mother,  “ I,  too, 

No  guides  there  are  but  the  North  star, 

And  the  moaning  forest  tossing  wild  arms  before. 

The  maiden  murmurs,  “ O sweet  were  yon  bells  afar, 
And  hark ! hark ! hark ! for  he  cometh,  he  nears 
the  door.” 

Fated  to  be  Free. 

January  3^ — — — — — 

When  people  wish  to  say  — not  how  great  a dis- 
tance they  have  to  go  in  order  to  reach  a certain 
place,  but  how  far  it  really  is  straight  from  point  to 
point  — they  say  it  is  so  far,  as  the  crow  flies. 
Now,  Polly,  suppose  you  try  to  do  all  you  have  to 
do  “ as  the  crow  flies.”  Don’t  be  like  the  robin, 
which  flew  down,  and  then  up  again,  and  then 
stopped,  and  considered,  and  fluttered  about ; but 
go  on  patiently  and  steadily,  “ as  the  crow  flies.” 

Stories  Told  to  a Child. 


6 


CIRCUMCISION. 


January  i 


January  2 


January  3 


7 


January  4 


“ I ’m  like  a good  clock,”  said  Crayshaw,  “ I neither 
gain  nor  lose.  I can  strike,  too.” 

Fated  to  be  Free . 


January  5 — 


Serve,  — woman  whom  I love,  ere  noon  be  high, 
Ere  the  long  shadow  lengthen  at  thy  feet. 
Work,  — I have  many  poor,  O man,  that  cry, 

My  little  ones  do  languish  in  the  street. 

Love,  — ’t  is  a time  for  love,  since  I love  thee. 
Live,  — ’t  is  a time  to  live.  Man,  live  in  Me. 

Poems. 


— January  6 


Daughters  of  Eve ! it  was  for  your  dear  sake 
The  world’s  first  hero  died  an  uncrowned  king; 
But  God’s  great  pity  touched  the  grand  mistake, 
And  made  his  married  love  a sacred  thing : 

For  yet  his  nobler  sons,  if  aught  be  true, 

Find  the  lost  Eden  in  their  love  to  you. 

Contrasted  Songs. 


8 


January  4 


January  5 


epiphany , 


January  6 


January  y 


Let  them  boast  of  thy  word,  “ It  is  certain  : 
We  doubt  it  no  more,”  let  them  say, 

“ Than  to-morrow  that  night’s  dusky  curtain 
Shall  roll  back  its  folds  for  the  day.” 

Mopsa  the  Fairy. 


- January  8 


How  difficult  it  is  for  us  to  estimate  the  many ' 
ways  in  which  we  may  be  mistaken.  When  shall 
we  learn  to  keep  the  knowledge  always  present 
with  us,  that  often  kindness  is  our  best  uprightness, 
and  our  truest  justice  is  mercy? 

Stories  Told  to  a Child. 


- Jamiary  9 

“ The  thing  that  might  have  been 
Is  called,  and  questioned  why  it  hath  not  been  ; 
And  can  it  give  good  reason,  it  is  set 
Beside  the  actual,  and  reckoned  in 
To  fill  the  empty  gaps  of  life.”  Ah,  so 
The  possible  stands  by  us  ever  fresh, 

Fairer  than  aught  which  any  life  hath  owned, 

And  makes  divine  amends. 

Gladys  and  her  Island. 


10 


January  7 


January  8 


January  9 


January  io 


Peace  ! Say  thy  prayers,  and  go  to  sleep, 

Till  some  time,  One  my  seal  shall  break, 
And  deep  shall  answer  unto  deep, 

When  He  crieth,  “Awake!  ” 

Contrasted  Songs. 


January  1 1 — - 


O that  some  power  would  give  me  Adam’s  eyes  ! 
O for  the  straight  simplicity  of  Eve ! 

Honors. 


January  12- 

Who  may  inherit  next  or  who  shall  match 
The  Swan  of  Avon  and  go  float  with  him 
Down  the  long  river  of  life  aneath  a sun 
Not  veiled,  and  high  at  noon  ? — the  river  of  life 
That  as  it  ran  reflected  all  its  lapse 
And  rippling  on  the  plumage  of  his  breast  ? 

Letters  on  Life  a7id  77ie  Morning . 


12 


January  10 


January  n 


January  1 2 


13 


January  1 3 

“But  you  know,  John,”  she  answered,  as  if  excus- 
ing herself,  “ we  are  not  at  all  sure  that  we  shall  have 
any  possessions,  anything  of  our  own,  in  the  future 
life  — anything,  consequently,  to  give  away.  Per- 
haps it  will  all  belong  to  all.  So  let  us  have  enough 
of  giving  while  we  can,  and  enjoy  the  best  part  of 
possession.” 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


January  14 


I grant  to  the  wise  his  meed, 

But  his  yoke  I will  not  brook, 

For  God  taught  me  to  read,  — 

He  lent  me  the  world  for  a book. 

Songs  with  Preludes . 


January  15 


Let  us  do  good,  not  to  receive  more  good  in  re- 
turn, but  as  an  evidence  of  gratitude  for  what  has 
already  been  bestowed.  In  a few  words,  let  it  be 
“all  for  love,  and  nothing  for  reward.” 

Stories  Told  to  a Child. 


15 


y unitary  16 


While  I listened,  like  young  birds, 

Hints  were  fluttering ; almost  words,  — 
Leaned  and  leaned,  and  nearer  came ; — 
Everything  had  changed  its  name. 

Don  John . 


-yanuary  17 — — — — 

Her  love  was  so  fresh,  it  might  no  more  be  with- 
stood than  the  moss  can  withstand  the  dew  that 
drenches  it  and  makes  it  sparkle  in  the  morning. 
Her  wonder  was  more  unsated  than  ever,  her  hope 
was  more  nearly  possession  than  ours.  If  sorrow 
came  up,  it  was  a dark  amazement.  Would  it  not 
soon  be  over  ? There  are  many  days  of  sunshine 
for  one  thunder-storm. 

Sarah  De  Berenger. 

—y amtary  18 


She  has  an  incurable  habit  of  looking  at  things 
from  the  passive  point  of  view.  She  never  says, 
“I  have  not  understood  such  and  such  people,”  but 
always,  “They  do  not  understand  me;”  she  never 
considers,  when  things  occur,  what  share  she  may 
have  had  in  causing  them  to  occur. 

A Sister* s Bye-Hours. 


16 


January  16 


January  17 


January  18 


— — — January  ig 

He  with  good  gifts  that  most  is  blest, 

Or  stands  for  God  above  the  rest, 

Let  him  so  think  — “ To  serve  the  dear, 
The  lowlier  children  I am  here. 

“ It  is  the  children’s  bread  I break ; 

He  trusts  me  with  it  for  their  sake ; 
(Hunger  I must  if  none  it  shares) 

It  is  but  mine  when  it  is  theirs. 

Poems. 

— - — yarn  ary  20  — — — 


When  I do  sit  apart 

And  commune  with  my  heart, 

She  brings  me  forth  the  treasures  once  my  own ; 
Shows  me  a happy  place 
Where  leaf-buds  swelled  apace, 

And  wasting  rims  of  snow  in  sunlight  shone. 

A Reverie. 

— - — yanuary  2 1 — — 

A thing  that  is  very  unexpected  and  moderately 
strange,  we  meet  with  wide-opened  eyes,  with  a start 
and  perhaps  exclamations ; but  a thing  more  than 
strange,  utterly  unaccounted  for,  quite  unreasonable, 
and  the  last  thing  one  could  have  supposed  possible 
as  coming  from  the  person  who  demanded  it,  is  met 
in  far  quieter  fashion. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


i8 


January , 1 g 


January  20 


January  2\ 


January  22 


It  would  be  hard  to  say  of  any  man  that  he  is 
never  right.  If  he  is  always  thinking  that  he  has 
forgotten  a certain  lady,  surely  he  is  right  some- 
times. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


January  23 


Is  life  a field  ? then  plough  it  up  — re-sow 
With  worthier  seed  — Is  life  a ship?  O heed 
The  southing  of  thy  stars  — Is  life  a breath  ? 
Breathe  deeper,  draw  life  up  from  hour  to  hour, 
Aye,  from  the  deepest  deep  in  thy  deep  soul. 

Letters  on  Life  and  The  Morning. 


January  24 


We  walk  securely  under  His  guidance,  without 
whom  “ not  a sparrow  falleth  to  the  ground ! ” and 
when  we  have  had  escapes  that  the  angels  have 
admired  at,  we  come  home  and  say,  perhaps,  that 
“ nothing  has  happened ; at  least  nothing  particular.” 
Stories  Told  to  a Child. 


20 


yanuary  22 


yanuary  23 


yanuary  24 


21 


January  25 


Sorrow  was  a ship,  I found, 

Wrecked  with  them  that  in  her  are, 

On  an  island  richer  far 

Than  the  port  where  they  were  bound. 

Pain,  that  to  us  mortals  clings, 

But  the  pushing  of  our  wings, 

That  we  have  no  use  for  yet, 

And  the  uprooting  of  our  feet 
From  the  soil  where  they  are  set. 

Contrasted  Songs. 

— January  26  - — » — 


We  are  much  bound  to  them  that  do  succeed  ; 
But,  in  a more  pathetic  sense,  are  bound 
To  such  as  fail.  They  all  our  loss  expound ; 
They  comfort  us  for  work  that  will  not  speed, 
And  life  — itself  a failure. 

Failure. 


— January  2 7 — 

Thoughts  are  certainly  able  to  spread  themselves 
without  the  aid  of  looks  or  language.  Invisible 
seed  that  floats  from  the  parent  plant  can  root  itself 
wherever  it  settles  ; and  thoughts  must  have  some 
medium  through  which  they  sail  till  they  reach 
minds  that  can  take  them  in,  and  there  they  strike 
root,  and  whole  crops  of  the  same  sort  come  up, 
just  as  if  they  were  indigenous,  and  naturally  be- 
longing to  their  entertainers.  This  is  even  more 
true  in  great  matters  than  in  small. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


22 


-January  2 5 

CONVERSION  OF  ST.  PAUL 


January  26 


January  27 


23 


- — January  28 


There  were  no  duties  that  she  habitually  per- 
formed ; there  was  no  place  that  she  occupied ; no 
one  looked  to  her  or  depended  on  her  for  anything ; 
no  one  seemed  to  be  the  better  for  her ; she  seemed 
to  have  no  more  to  do  with  the  course  of  that  stream 
of  life  on  which  she  floated  than  the  least  little  piece 
of  weed  may  have,  that,  being  detached  from  its 
stem,  goes  sailing  down  its  native  brook  to  the  sea. 

The  Cumber ers. 

January  29 


Turn  your  back  on  the  light,  and  you  ’ll  follow  a 
shadow.  The  deaf  queen  Fate  has  dumb  courtiers. 
If  the  hound  is  your  foe,  don’t  sleep  in  his  kennel. 
That  that  is,  is. 

Mop sci  the  Fairy . 


January  30- 


The  happy  find 
Equality  of  beauty  everywhere 
To  feed  on.  All  of  shade  and  sheen  is  theirs, 
All  the  strange  fashions  and  the  fair  wise  ways 
Of  lives  beneath  man’s  own. 

Letters  on  Life  and  The  Morning. 


24 


January  28 


January  29 


January  30 


25 


January  31 


Art  tired  ? 

There  is  a rest  remaining.  Hast  thou  sinned  ? 
There  is  a Sacrifice.  Lift  up  thy  head, 

The  lovely  world,  and  the  over-world  alike, 
Ring  with  a song  eterne,  a happy  rede, 

‘‘Thy  Father  loves  thee.” 

Songs  with  Preludes. 


26 


January  31 


IE  LIMAS'? 

7 OF  THE 

nmMERSATTr  m mm% 


f efcruarp 


♦ — 

The  winter  following  these  little  events  was  ex- 
tremely mild  — so  much  so,  that  all  the  spring  flow- 
ers were  in  bloom  by  the  middle  of  February;  but 
at  that  time  the  weather  suddenly  changed  ; we  had 
a hard  frost,  and  a remarkably  heavy  fall  of  snow. 
All  over  the  hollow  in  which  our  house  stood,  it  was 
more  than  five  feet  deep,  and  on  the  side  against 
which  the  wind  blew,  the  windows  were  blocked  up 
as  high  as  the  top  row  of  panes. 

When  this  frost  had  lasted  three  weeks  there  was 
a sudden  thaw  and  a heavy  fall  of  rain,  which  riddled 
the  snow  full  of  round  holes.  In  a few  days  the  warm 
sun  was  again  shining  upon  the  crocuses  and  snow- 
drops ; the  wet  bunches  of  laurestinus  flower  began 
to  raise  themselves  and  dry  their  shining  leaves,  and 
the  aconites  and  hepaticas  were  as  gay  as  ever. 

A Sister's  Bye-Hours . 

The  moon  is  bleached  as  white  as  wool, 
And  just  dropping  under  ; 

Every  star  is  gone  but  three, 

And  they  hang  far  asunder,  — 

There ’s  a sea-ghost  all  in  gray, 

A tall  shape  of  wonder  ! 

Songs  of  the  Night  Watches . 


29 


February  i 


“ Nothing  like  work,”  he  would  reply.  " ‘ Blessed 
be  the  man  that  invented  sleep/  quoth  the  Irishman  ; 
but  I say,  ‘ Happy  rest  the  man  that  invented  saw- 
ing.’ ” 

Off  the  Skelligs. 


- — February  2 


Let  me  be  only  sure  ; for  sooth  to  tell, 

The  sorest  dole  — is  doubt. 

Don  John . 


— - — *— — February  3 — 

I don’t  wish  to  make  a kind  of  occupation  of  the 
poor,  and  go  to  see  them  for  my  own  benefit,  because 
I have  nothing  else  to  do.  I call  that  playing  at 
charity.  Idle  men  take  a little  land,  you  know,  and 
farm  it,  avowedly  for  their  own  amusement.  Idle 
women  take  a little  land  (the  difference  is  that  on 
their  land  are  houses  instead  of  weeds),  and  they  farm 
it, — -only,  in  place  of  mangel-wurzel  and  clover,  they 
sow  successive  crops  of  tracts  and  grocery  tickets. 

A Sister's  Bye-Hours. 


3° 


February  I 


r — February  2 

PURIFICATION.  - CANDLEMAS . 


February  3 


31 


February  4 


Do  not  expect  that  in  your  own  strength  you  can 
make  use  of  even  the  best  opportunity  of  doing 
good. 

Stories  Told  to  a Child. 


February  5 

Hard  is  life 

For  some.  They  would  that  they  could  soften  it ; 
And,  in  the  doing  of  their  work,  they  sigh 
As  if  it  wTas  their  choice  and  not  their  lot ; 

And,  in  the  raising  of  their  prayer  to  God, 

They  crave  His  kindness  for  the  world  He  made, 
Till  they,  at  last,  forget  that  He,  not  they, 

Is  the  true  lover  of  man. 

Monitions  of  the  Unseen. 

— February  6 — — — - 


Reign,  and  keep  life  in  this  our  deep  desire  — 
Our  only  greatness  is  that  we  aspire. 

A Snow  Mountain. 


32 


February  4 


February  5 


February  6 


February  7 


Emily  had  not  one  of  those  poverty-stricken  na- 
tures which  are  never  glad  excepting  for  some  special 
reason  drawing  them  above  themselves.  She  lived 
in  an  elevated  region  full  of  love  and  wonder,  taking 
kindly  alike  to  reverence  and  to  hope ; but  she  was 
seldom  excited,  her  feelings  were  not  shallow  enough 
to  be  easily  troubled  with  excitement,  or  made  fitful 
with  agitation. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 

February  8 - — - — — 

In  the  night  she  told  a story, 

In  the  night  and  all  night  through, 

While  the  moon  was  in  her  glory, 

And  the  branches  dropped  with  dew. 

’T  was  my  life  she  told,  and  round  it 
Rose  the  years  as  from  a deep  ; 

In  the  world’s  great  heart  she  found  it, 
Cradled  like  a child  asleep. 

Mopsa  the  Fairy. 


February  9 


People  that  take  charity,  sir,  can  never  get  it  by 
itself.  They  always  have  to  take  something  else 
with  it.  Sometimes,  what  they  have  with  the  charity 
is  scolding,  and  sometimes  good  advice  ; but  they 
never  get  it  neat. 

A Sister's  Bye-Hours. 


34 


February  8 


February  9 


35 


February  10 


“ I ’ll  tell  you  what,”  said  this  puny  philosopher, 
“ I used  always  to  hate  the  morals,  — but  it ’s  no 
good  ! They  ’re  in  everything.  It ’s  my  belief  they 
’re  a part  of  the  world.  Yes,  they  ’re  ingrain ! ” 

Off  the  Skelligs . 


— February  1 1 


O Fancy,  if  thou  flyest,  come  back  anon, 

Thy  fluttering  wings  are  soft  as  love’s  first  word, 
And  fragrant  as  the  feathers  of  that  bird, 

Which  feeds  upon  the  budded  cinnamon. 

Fancy . 


February  12 


Life  is  not  enough, 

Nor  love,  nor  learning, — Death  is  not  enough 
Even  to  them,  happy,  who  forecast  new  life  ; 
But  give  us  now  and  satisfy  us  now, 

Give  us  now,  now,  to  live  in  the  life  of  God, 
Give  us  now,  now,  to  be  at  one  with  Him. 

Letters  on  Life  and  The  Morning . 


36 


February  io- 


February  1 1 


February  12 


37 


February  13 


There  are  some  days  that  die  not  out, 

Nor  alter  by  reflection’s  power, 

Whose  converse  calm,  whose  words  devout, 
For  ever  rest,  the  spirit’s  dower. 

And  they  are  days  when  drops  a veil  — 

A mist  upon  the  distance  past ; 

And  while  we  say  to  peace  — “ All  hail ! ” 

We  hope  that  always  it  shall  last. 

A Birthday  Walk . 

* February  14 — 


It ’s  we  two,  it ’s  we  two,  it ’s  we  two  for  aye, 

All  the  world  and  we  two,  and  Heaven  be  our  stay. 
Like  a laverock  in  the  lift,  sing,  O bonny  bride*! 

All  the  world  was  Adam  once,  with  Eve  by  his  side. 

Mopsa  the  Fairy. 


February  15 : 

“ Ain’t  a gentleman  a man  with  good  manners? 
Now  a good-manner ’d  man  is  allers  saying  by  his 
ways  and  looks  to  them  that  air  beneath  him, 
‘You’re  as  good  as  I am!’  and  a bad-manner’d 
man  is  allers  saying  by  his  ways  and  looks  to  them 
that  air  above  him,  ‘I’m  as  good  as  you  air ! ’ 
Now  your  real  gentleman  thinks  most  of  them  things 
that  make  men  ekal,  and  t’  other  chap  thinks  most  of 
what  makes  them  unekal.” 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


33 


February  13 


ST.  VALENTINE. 


February  14- 


- February  1 5 


39 


February  16 


Do  not  put  off  till  another  day  any  good  which  it 
is  in  the  power  of  your  hand  to  do  at  once. 

Stories  Told  to  a Child. 


February  1 7 


Such  as  have  not  gold  to  bring  Thee, 

They  bring  thanks  — Thy  grateful  sons; 
Such  as  have  no  song  to  sing  Thee, 

Live  Thee  praise  — Thy  silent  ones. 

Poems. 


February  18 


Divine  Love  came  down  to  take  on  itself  our  sins, 
but  there  is  no  Saviour  to  do  the  like  for  our  mis- 
takes. 

Sarah  De  Berenger . 


40 


February  1 6 


February  17 


February  18 


— — — - February  19 

“ It  seems  shocking  to  think  that  some  people 
should  be  sent  into  this  world  to  teach  others  forbear- 
ance, only  by  being  useless  or  unaccommodating.” 
“ My  dear,”  she  answered,  “ far  be  it  from  me  to  say 
that  the  Almighty  designed  any  of  his  creatures,  for 
such  a purpose  ; I meant,  that  if  we  do  not  perform 
the  good  part  that  we  all  have  it  in  our  power  to 
take  upon  us,  God  will  make  our  evil  subservient  to 
the  good  of  others.  God  will  turn  our  very  faults 
into  blessings  for  our  neighbors.”  The  Cumberers . 

February  20  — 


If  we  consider  women  whose  lot  it  is  to  inspire 
deep  affection,  we  shall  sometimes  find  them,  not 
those  who  can  most  generously  bestow,  but  those 
who  can  most  generously  receive. 

Don  John. 


february  2 1 — 

Do  not  despond  because  your  means  of  doing 
good  appear  trifling  and  insignificant,  for  though  one 
soweth  and  another  reapeth,  yet  it  is  God  that  giveth 
the  increase ; and  who  can  tell  whether  he  will  not 
cause  that  which  is  sown  to  bear  fruit  an  hundred 
fold,  who  can  tell  whether  to  have  even  a penny  to 
give  under  certain  circumstances  may  not  be  to  have 
no  copper  — but  a golden  opportunity. 

Stories  Told  to  a Child. 


42 


- February  19- 


February  20  - 


February  2 1 


43 


February  22  — 

Though  all  great  deeds  were  proved  but  fables  fine, 
Though  earth’s  old  story  could  be  told  anew, 
Though  the  swee£  fashions  loved  of  them  that  sue 
Were  empty  as  the  ruined  Delphian  shrine  — 
Though  God  did  never  man,  in  words  benign, 

With  sense  of  His  great  Fatherhood  endue, 
Though  life  immortal  were  a dream  untrue,  — 
Though  all  these  were  not,  — to  the  ungraced  heir 
Would  this  remain,  — to  live  as  though  they  were. 

Poems. 

February  23 — 

Emily’s  joyous  and  impassioned  nature,  though 
she  lived  safely,  as  it  were,  in  the  middle  of  her  own 
sweet  world  — saw  the  best  of  it,  made  the  best  of 
it,  and  colored  it  all,  earth  and  sky,  with  her  tender 
hopefulness  — was  often  conscious  of  something  yet 
to  come,  ready  and  expectant  of  the  rest  of  it.  The 
rest  of  life,  she  meant ; the  rest  of  sorrow,  love,  and 
feeling. 

Fated  to  he  Free. 

February  24 

Times  when  the  troubles  of  the  heart 

Are  hushed  — as  winds  were  hushed  that  day  — 
And  budding  hopes  begin  to  start, 

Like  those  green  hedgerows  on  our  way : 

When  all  within  and  all  around, 

Like  hues  on  that  sweet  landscape  blend, 

And  Nature’s  hand  has  made  to  sound 
The  heartstrings  that  her  touch  attend. 

A Birthday  Walk. 


44 


February  22 

WASHINGTON'S  BIRTHDAY. 


February  23 


February  24- 

ST.  MATTHIAS. 


45 


Febnuiry  25 


Work  is  its  own  best  earthly  meed, 

Else  have  we  none  more  than  the  sea-born  throng 
Who  wrought  those  marvellous  isles  that  bloom -afar. 

Work . 


February  26 


There  are  some  little  women  that  are  insignificant 
and  nobody  takes  the  least  notice  of  them.  They  are 
not  big  enough  to  be  handsome  ; they  are  not  witty 
nor  clever,  and  so  they  get  overlooked.  Nobody 
falls  in  love  with  them,  and  nobody  dislikes  them. 

Off  the  Skelligs . 


February  27  — 


She  comforts  all  her  mother’s  days, 

And  with  her  sweet  obedient  ways 
She  makes  her  labor  light ; 

So  sweet  to  hear,  so  fair  to  see  ! 

O,  she  is  much  too  good  for  me, 

That  lovely  Lettice  White ! 

Supper  at  the  Mill . 


4<r 


February  25 


February  26 


- — February  27 


47 


February  28 


Nay,  they  count  themselves  so  wise, 
There  is  no  task  they  shall  be  set  to  do  ^ 

But  they  will  ask  God  why.  What  mean  they  so  ? 
The  glory  is  not  in  the  task,  but  in 
The  doing  it  for  Him. 

Monitions  of  the  Unseen. 


February  29 

O sleep  I O sleep  ! 

Do  not  forget  me.  Sometimes  come  and  sweep, 
Now  I have  nothing  left,  thy  healing  hand 
Over  the  lids  that  crave  thy  visits  bland, 

Thou  kind,  thou  comforting  one : 

For  I have  seen  his  face,  as  I desired, 
And  all  my  story  is  done. 

O,  I am  tired ! 

Songs  of  the  Night  Watches. 


48 


February  28 


February  29 


\u  urn® 

®F  THE 

VHf IRWW  ®f  M 


, 


First,  he  skirted  it  all  about.  From  above  it  was 
nearly  as  round  as  a cup,  and  as  deep  in  proportion 
to  its  size.  The  large  old  trees  had  been  left,  and 
appeared  almost  to  fill  it  up,  their  softly  rounded 
heads  coming  to  within  three  feet  of  the  level  where 
he  stood.  All  the  mother  birds  — rooks,  jays, 
thrushes,  and  pigeons  — were  plainly  in  view  under 
him,  as  they  sat  brooding  on  their  nests  among  the 
topmost  twigs,  and  there  was  a great  cawing  and 
crowing  of  the  cock-birds  while  they  flew  about  and 
fed  their  mates.  The  leaves  were  not  out ; their 
buds  only  looked  like  green  eggs  spotting  the  trees, 
excepting  that  here  and  there  a horse-chestnut,  for- 
warder than  its  brethren,  was  pushing  its  crumpled 
foliage  out  of  the  pale-pink  sheath.  Everywhere 
saplings  had  been  cut  down,  and  numbers  of  them 
strewed  the  damp  mossy  ground ; but  light  pene- 
trated, and  water  trickled,  there  was  a pleasant  scent 
of  herbs  and  flowers,  and  the  whole  place  was  cheer- 
ful with  growth  and  spring.  pate^  to  fo  pree% 

I sat,  as  I well  remember,  in  the  glorious  sunshine, 
and  rejoiced  in  the  beauty  of  the  spring.  The 
magnolia  buds  were  spreading,  and  all  its  snowy 
flowers  ready  to  burst ; the  American  cowslip  thickly 
covered  the  ground  on  which  I sat ; great  flocks  of 
pigeons  were  cooing  and  winnowing  the  air  with 
their  wings  overhead ; the  yellow-bird  was  chatter- 
ing in  the  wood ; and  from  every  pore  of  the  warm 
and  steaming  earth,  life  and  growth  were  breaking 
^orth*  Marked . 


51 


March  I 

Nature,  before  it  has  been  touched  by  man,  is 
almost  always  beautiful,  strong,  and  cheerful  in  man’s 
eyes  ; but  nature,  when  he  has  once  given  it  his  cul- 
ture and  then  forsaken  it,  has  usually  an  air  of  sor- 
row and  helplessness.  It  is  so  flavored  with  his 
thoughts,  and  permeated  by  his  spirit,  that  if  the 
stimulus  of  his  presence  is  withdrawn  it  cannot  for 
a long  while  do  without  him,  and  live  for  itself  as 
fully  and  as  well  as  it  did  before. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 

March  2 

“ Whether  is  best,  thou  forest-planter  wise, 

To  minister  to  others,  or  that  they 

Should  minister  to  thee  ? ” Then,  on  my  face 

Low  lying,  I made  answer  : “ It  is  best, 

Most  High,  to  minister ; ” and  thus  came  back 
The  answer,  — “ Choose  not  for  thyself  the  best : 

Go  down,  and,  lo ! my  poor  shall  minister, 

Out  of  their  poverty,  to  thee.” 

Monitions  of  the  Unseen . 

— — March  3 

When  found  the  rose  delight  in  her  fair  hue  ? 
Color  is  nothing  to  this  world;  ’tis  I 
That  see  it.  Farther,  I discover,  soul, 

That  trees  are  nothing  to  their  fellow  trees ; 

It  is  but  I that  love  their  stateliness, 

And  I that,  comforting  my  heart,  do  sit 
At  noon  beneath  their  shadow. 

Dominion. 


52 


March  i 


March  2 


March  3 


March  4 


When  I remember  something  which  I had, 

But  which  is  gone,  and  I must  do  without, 

I sometimes  wonder  how  I can  be  glad, 

Even  in  cowslip  time  when  hedges  sprout ; 

It  makes  me  sigh  to  think  on  it,  — but  yet 
My  days  will  not  be  better  days,  should  I forget. 

Songs  with  Prehides. 


March  5 


Many  confess  that  they  are  proud;  some  will 
even  confess  that  they  are  vain ; some  will  sigh 
frankly  over  their  passionate  tempers ; and  others 
again  will  admit  that  they  are  of  careless  dispositions. 
But  who  tells,  who  confesses  how  mean  she  is,  or 
how  sly,  or  how  envious  ? 

Studies  for  Stories. 


March  6 


f<  Depression  is  the  result  of  circumstances.” 

“You  are  wrong,  Miss  Salter.  Depression  of 
spirits,  when  it  is  real,  and  when  people  cannot  help 
it,  comes,  in  ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a hundred,  from 
dyspepsia,  or  from  a disordered  liver,  — in  short, 
from  bodily  causes.” 

Dr.  Deane's  Governess . 


54 


March  4 


March  5 


March  6 


March  7 


" Coz  gave  each  of  us  a sugared  almond,”  said  Ama- 
bel, pouting.  “ I said,  ‘ Dick,  you  may  take  a bite  of 
mine,’  and  he  — Oh,  Dick,  you  in-principled  boy,  you 
gobbled  it  all  up  — and  now,”*  she  continued,  with 
deep  melancholy,  “ I can  never  get  it  back.” 

Sarah  De  Berenger . 


March  S 


Let  a Frenchwoman  nurse  me  when  I am  ill,  let 
an  Englishwoman  clean  me  my  house,  and  an  Eng- 
lishman write  me  my  poetry ! 

Don  John. 


— March  9 

The  need  for  self-sacrifice  is  so  completely  the  law 
of  the  world,  that  it  is  not  merely  in  religious  mat- 
ters that  we  must  give  all,  or  get  nothing.  If  we 
want  to  do  any  great  good  to  our  fellow-creatures, 
though  it  be  solely  a temporal  good,  it  is  just  the 
same.  Give  yourself  and  all  you  have,  and  most 
likely  you  will  get  it;  give  half,  and  you  get  noth- 
ing worth  mentioning. 

Off  the  Skelligs. 


56 


March  7 


March  8 


Ma  rch  9 


— March  JO — 

The  cold  is  not  in  crag,  nor  scar, 

Not  in  the  snows  that  lap  the  lea, 

Not  in  yon  wings  that  beat  afar, 

Delighting,  on  the  crested  sea  ; 

No,  nor  in  yon  exultant  wind 

That  shakes  the  oak  and  bends  the  pine. 
Look  near,  look  in,  and  thou  shalt  find 
No  sense  of  cold,  fond  fool,  but  thine! 

Songs  on  the  Voices  of  Birds . 

March  r i 


A word  to  the  nobler  sex, 

As  thus  ; we  pray  you  carry  not  your  guns 
On  the  full-cock ; we  pray  you  set  your  pride 
In  its  proper  place,  and  never  be  ashamed 
Of  any  honest  calling,  — let  us  add, 

And  end ; for  all  the  rest,  hold  up  your  heads 
And  mind  your  English. 

Gladys  and  her  Island. 

March  12 — 


How  beautiful 

Are  children  to  their  fathers  ! Son,  my  heart 
Is  greatly  glad  because  of  thee  ; my  life 
Shall  lack  of  no  completeness  in  the  days 
To  come.  If  I forget  the  joy  of  youth, 

In  thee  shall  I be  comforted ; ay,  see 
My  youth,  a dearer  than  my  own  again. 

A Story  of  Doom. 


58 


J Tarek  10 


March  i i 


March  12 


March  13 


Is  it  what  we  impart,  or  impute  to  nature  from 
ourselves,  that  we  chiefly  lean  upon  ? or  does  she 
truly  impart  of  what  is  really  in  her  to  us  ? 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


March  14 


It  is  the  one  lovely  folly  of  the  world.  Who 
could  bear  to  think  of  all  that  childhood  demands 
of  womanhood,  if  he  did  not  bear  in  mind  the  sweet 
delusive  glamour  that  washes  every  woman’s  eyes 
ere  she  catches  sight  of  the  small  mortal  sent  to  be 
her  charge. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


March  15 


“ Ah  ! why  to  that  which  needs  it  not,’’ 

Methought,  “ should  costly  things  be  given  ? 
How  mu<;h  is  wasted,  wrecked,  forgot, 

On  this  side  heaven ! ” 

The  Letter  L. 


60 


March  13 


March  14 


March  15 


March  16 


I do  not  know  why  a girl  should  be  expected  to 
talk  well  till  she  is  at  least  twenty.  There  cannot 
be  much  in  her,  she  may  be  prettily  exacting,  or 
charmingly  modest,  but  her  attractions  must  be  per- 
sonal, not  intellectual. 

Off  the  Skelligs . 


— March  1 7 — 

There  was  a morning  when  I longed  for  fame, 

There  was  a noontide  when  I passed  it  by, 

There  is  an  evening  when  I think  not  shame 
Its  substance  and  its  being  to  deny ; 

For  if  men  bear  in  mind  great  deeds,  the  name 
Of  him  that  wrought  them  shall  they  leave  to  die ; 
Or  if  his  name  they  shall  have  deathless  writ, 

They  change  the  deeds  that  first  ennobled  it. 

The  Star's  Monument . 

March  1 8 


Now  then,  “ Share  and  share  alike,”  as  the  tiger 
said  to  the  washerwoman ; “ you  shall  mangle  the 
skirts  and  I the  bodies.” 

Don  John. 


62 


* 


63 


March  19 — 

I opened  the  doors  of  heart. 

And  behold, 

There  was  music  within  and  a song, 

And  echoes  did  feed  on  the  sweetness,  repeating  it 
long. 

I opened  the  doors  of  my  heart : and  behold, 

There  was  music  that  played  itself  out  in  aeolian 
notes, 

Then  was  heard,  as  a far-away  bell  at  long  intervals 
tolled. 

Contrasted  Songs, 

—  March  20 — 

I wait  for  the  day  when  dear  hearts  sflall  discover, 
While  dear  hands  are  laid  on  my  head ; 

“ The  child  is  a woman,  the  book  may  close  over, 

For  all  the  lessons  are  said.” 

I wait  for  my  story  — the  birds  cannot  sing  it, 

Not  one,  as  he  sits  on  the  tree  ; 

The  bells  cannot  ring  it,  but  long  years,  O bring  it ! 

Such  as  I wish  it  to  be. 

Songs  of  Seven . 

—  March  2 1 : 

O perfect  love  that  ’dureth  long  ! 

Dear  growth,  that,  shaded  by  the  palms, 

And  breathed  on  by  the  angel’s  song, 

Blooms  on  in  heaven’s  eternal  calms  ! 

How  great  the  task  to  guard  thee  here, 

Where  wind  is  rough  and  frost  is  keen, 

And  all  the  ground  with  doubt  and  fear 
Is  checkered,  birth  and  death  between ! 

Afternoon  at  a Parsonage. 

I 


64 


March  19 


— March  2 1 — - 


65 


March  22 


“ I think,”  said  the  child,  with  grave  contempt, 
— “I  think  I shall  dig  a hole  and  bury  my  doll.” 
“ Poor  thing  ! ” said  I,  “ what  has  she  done  ? ” 
“ Why,”  replied  the  child,  in  a sharp  tone  of  injured 
feeling,  “she’s  no  use  at  all.  I’m  always  saying, 
‘ How  do  you  do  ? ’ to  her,  and  she,  — she  never  says, 
‘ Very  well,  thank  you.’  ” 

The  Stolen  Treasure. 


March  23  

“No,  mother,”  said  John;  “but  we  have  been 
talking  about  being  ambitious,  and  Emily  says  she  is 
sure  there  must  be  twro  kinds,  and  that  hers  was  the 
wrong  one,  so  she  sent  her  love  to  you,  mother,  and 
I was  to  tell  you  that  she  knew  you  had  often  thought 
her  ambitious  and  so  she  has  been:  she  has  been 
always  wishing,  she  says,  to  rise  and  do  a higher 
kind  of  work,  instead  of  doing  her  own  work  in  the 
highest  and  best  way.” 

Emily's  Ambition. 

— : — March  24 


Friend,  it  is  time  to  work.  I say  to  thee, 
Thou  dost  all  earthly  good  by  much  excel ; 
Thou  and  God’s  blessing  are  enough  for  me  : 
My  work,  my  work  — farewell ! 

Honors. 


66 


March'  22 


March  23 


March  24 


Motrch  25 


Nor  Herod’s  judgment-halls  suffice  : 

Man  shall  not  hide  himself  from  love. 

Poems 


March  26 ; 

She  was,  to  all  strangers,  an  absolutely  uninterest- 
ing woman ; but  her  family  knew  her  merits. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


March  27 — 

Let  me  lose  mine  own  life 

For  Thy  sake,  and  put  on  Thine  ; 
Though  it  be  with  dangers  rife, 

In  the  ending  it  shall  shine. 

Mine  own  life  — lay  it  low ; 

Let  me  Thy  disciple  be  ; 

Bear  Thy  cross,  and  even  so 
Live  to  God,  and  rest  in  Thee. 

Poems. 


63 


March  25 


AN  NUNC!  A TION. 


Of* 


March  26  - 


— March  27 


69 


March  28 


Caroline  seemed  bent  on  pleasing  and  winning 
all  suffrages  for  herself.  Miss  Black  was  never  try- 
ing to  please,  though  she  was  often  trying  to  do 
good.  It  seemed  to  be  as  essential  to  her  happiness 
to  find  people  on  whom  she  could  lavish  her  care 
and  atte^ive  love,  as  it  was  to  Caroline  to  excite 
and  receive  the  affection  of  others. 

Studies  for  Stories. 

March  29  — 


I wish,  and  I wish  that  the  spring  would  go  faster, 
Nor  long  summer  bide  so  late ; 

And  I could  grow  on  like  the  foxglove  and  aster, 
For  some  things  are  ill  to  wait. 

Songs  of  Seven. 


March  30 


“ Take  courage  ” — courage  ! ay,  my  purple  peer, 

I will  take  courage ; for  thy  Tyrian  rays 
Refresh  me  to  the  heart,  and  strangely  dear 
And  healing  is  thy  praise. 

Honors. 


70 


March  28 


March  30 


March  31 


Now  winter  past,  the  white-thorn  bower 
Breaks  forth  and  buds  down  all  the  glen ; 
Now  spreads  the  leaf  and  grows  the  flower : 
So  grows  the  life  of  God,  in  men. 

Poems. 


March  31 


THE  UKIMff 
OF  THE 

tWWRPffY  ®F  IttWW* 


A shady  freshness,  chafers  whirring, 

A little  piping  of  leaf-hid  birds  ; 

A flutter  of  wings,  a fitful  stirring, 

A cloud  to  the  eastward  snowy  as  curds. 

Bare  grassy  slopes,  where  kids  are  tethered 
Round  valleys  like  nests  all  ferny-lined  ; 

Round  hills,  with  fluttering  tree-tops  feathered, 
Swell  high  in  their  freckled  robes  behind. 

A rose-flush  tender,  a thrill,  a quiver, 

When  golden  gleams  to  the  tree-tops  glide ; 

A flashing  edge  for  the  milk-white  river, 

The  beck,  a river  — with  still  sleek  tide. 

Divided. 


75 


April  i 


What  change  has  made  the  pastures  sweet 
And  reached  the  daisies  at  my  feet, 

And  cloud  that  wears  a golden  hem  ? 

This  lovely  world,  the  hills,  the  sward  — 
They  all  look  fresh,  as  if  our  Lord 
But  yesterday  had  finished  them. 

Reflections . 


April  2 - 


As  on  this  day  in  the  times  of  yore, 

A King  forth  fared  to  His  wond’rous  ride  ; 
And  a multitude  that  went  before, 

And  a multitude  that  follow’d,  cried, 

“ Hosanna.” 

Mourner  and  Monarch,  Thy  tears  are  dry; 

But  the  song  of  the  palms  shall  ne’er  be  o’er, 
For  the  multitudes  yet  following  cry, 

As  the  multitude  gone  on  before,  “ Hosanna.” 

Poems. 

— April  3 


It  was  a sweet  April  day.  All  the  cherry-trees 
were  in  full  flower,  and  the  young  thickets  in  the 
garden  were  bending  low  with  lilac-blossom,  but 
Peter  was  miserable. 

For  what  is  April,  and  what  is  a half-holiday,  and 
what  indeed  is  life  itself  when  one  has  lost  perhaps 
the  most  excellent  top  that  boy  ever  spun,  and  the 
loudest  hummer  ? 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


76 


April  3 


April  4 


I heard  the  chanting  waters  flow, 

The  cushat’s  note,  the  bee’s  low  humming,  — 
Then  turned  the  hedge,  and  did  not  know,  — 
How  could  I ? — that  my  time  was  coming. 

Songs  with  Preludes. 


— — — — April  5 

When  I hear  the  waters  fretting, 

When  I see  the  chestnut  letting 
All  her  lovely  blossom  falter  down,  I think,  “ Alas 
the  day ! ” 

Once  with  magical  sweet  singing, 

Blackbirds  set  the  woodland  ringing, 

That  awakes  no  more  while  April  hours  wear  them- 
selves away. 

Songs  on  the  Voices  of  Birds. 

April  6 

Thy  body  done  to  death  below, 

Thou  still  dost  freely  give ; 

Thy  blood,  which  is  Thy  life,  bestow, 

And  in  that  life  I live. 

Jesu,  my  Lord,  I Thee  confess, 

Thy  love  my  heaven  will  be : 

Thy  care  I crave,  Thy  name  I bless, 

And  wish  myself  with  Thee. 

Poems. 


78 


By  the  pangs  God  look’d  not  on, 
And  the  world  dared  not  see ; 
By  all  redeeming  wonders  won 
Through  that  dread  mystery ; — 
Lord,  receive  once  more  the  sigh 
From  the  accursed  tree  — 

“ Sacred  Love  of  God  most  high, 
remember  me ! ” 


Poems. 


Apiil  8 


It  is  the  noon  of  night, 

And  the  world’s  Great  Light 
Gone  out,  she  widow-like  doth  carry  her : 

The  moon  hath  veiled  her  face, 

Nor  looks  on  that  dread  place 
Where  He  lieth  dead  in  sealed  sepulchre  ; 

And  heaven  and  hades,  emptied,  lend 
Their  flocking  multitudes  to  watch  and  wait  the  end. 

Contrasted  Songs. 


April  9 

In  regal  quiet  deep, 

Lo,  One  new  waked  from  sleep ! 
Behold,  He  standeth  in  the  rock-hewn  door  ! 
Thy  children  shall  not  die,  — 

Peace,  peace,  thy  Lord  is  by ! 

He  liveth  ! — they  shall  live  for  evermore. 
Peace  ! lo,  He  lifts  a priestly  hand, 

And  blesseth  all  the  sons  of  men  in  every  land. 

Contrasted  Songs. 


So 


April  io 


But  ah  ! to  stay,  and  stay, 

And  let  that  moon  of  April  wane  itself  away, 

- And  let  the  lovely  May 
Make  ready  all  her  buds  for  June. 

Songs  of  the  Night  Watches . 


April  i x 

What ! Though  I have  all  sorts  of  good  food  in 
my  father’s  house,  and  plenty  of  it,  shall  it  not  still 
be  a joy  to  me  to  buy  a whole  pot  of  plum-jam  with 
my  ninepence  ? Certainly  it  shall,  and  with  gener- 
ous ardor  I shall  call  my  younger  brothers  and  sis- 
ters together  to  my  little  room,  where  in  appreciative 
silence  we  shall  hang  over  it,  while  I dig  it  out  with 
the  butt-end  of  my  tooth-brush. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 

April  12 


Ugliness  of  the  right  sort  is  a kind  of  beauty.  It 
has  some  of  the  best  qualities  of  beauty  — it  attracts 
observation  and  fixes  the  memory. 

Off  the  Skelligs. 


82 


April  13 


“ I cannot  be  such  a prig  as  to  pretend  that  I can 
think  of  nothing  but  philanthropy.  ‘ There ’s  a mix- 
ter,  sir/  as  Bolton  said  ; ‘ you  can’t  expect  to  find  no 
tares  at  all  in  the  best  bag  of  seed  corn.’  ” 

Sarah  De  Berenger. 


April  1 4 

And  can  this  be  my  own  world  ? 

’T  is  all  gold  and  snow, 

Save  where  scarlet  waves  are  hurled 
Down  yon  gulf  below. 

’T  is  thy  world,  ’t  is  my  world, 

City  and  mead  and  shore, 

For  he  that  hath  his  own  world 
Hath  many  worlds  more. 

Mofisa  the  Fairy . 

April  1 5 


“ It ’s  lucky,”  remarked  Lancy,  “ that  being  a girl 
is  n’t  infectious.  If  I thought  I should  catch  it  of 
you,  Mary,  I would  never  come  near  you  or  any 
other  girl  any  more.” 

“ Of  course  you  would  n’t,”  said  Mary,  with  con- 
viction. 

Don  John. 


S4 


•3 


Apvil 


April  14 


April  15 


Pure  with  all  faithful  passion,  fair 
With  tender  smiles  that  come  and  go ; 
And  comforting  as  April  air 
After  the  snow. 


Poeins. 


April  1 7 

O that  the  mist  which  veileth  my  To-come 
Would  so  dissolve  and  yield  unto  mine  eyes 
A worthy  path  I I ’d  count  not  wearisome 
Long  toil,  nor  enterprise, 

But  strain  to  reach  it ; ay,  with  wrestlings  stout 
And  hopes  that  even  in  the  dark  will  grow 
(Like  plants  in  dungeons,  reaching  feelers  out), 
And  ploddings  wary  and  slow. 

Honors . 

April  18 — : 


No  one  feels  more  keenly  than  she  does  that  it 
is  not  charity,  not  a good  work,  in  a man  to  leave 
from  his  own  family  what  he  does  not  want  and  can 
no  longer  use,  thinking  that  it  is  just  as  acceptable  to 
God  as  if  he  had  given  it  in  his  lifetime,  when  he 
liked  it,  enjoyed  it  — when,  in  short,  it  was  his  own. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


86 


April  1 6 


April  1 7 


April  1 8 


— — April  i o * 

What  is  thy  thought ? There  is  no* miracle? 
There  is  a great  one,  which  thou  hast  not  read, 

And  never  shalt  escape.  Thyself,  O man, 

Thou  art  the  miracle.  Ay,  thou  thyself, 

Being  in  the  world  and  of  the  world,  thyself 
Hast  breathed  in  breath  from  Him  that  made  the 
world. 

Thou  art  thy  Father’s  copy  of  Himself,  — 

Thou  art  thy  Father’s  miracle. 

Story  of  Doom. 

— April  20 


Call  the  sweet  winds  of  heaven  and  bid  them  blow, 
And  call  the  clouds  to  drop  in  gracious  dew  ; 

Let  Thy  sap  rise  in  this  dry  branch  and  flow  — 
(For  yet ’t  is  Thine)  — Rise,  rise,  in  it  anew. 

Poems. 


April  21 


What  work  so  high  as  mine, 
Interpreter  betwixt  the  world  and  man, 
Nature’s  ungathered  pearls  to  set  and  shrine, 
The  mystery  she  wraps  her  in  to  scan ; 

Her  unsyllabic  voices  to  combine, 

And  serve  her  with  such  love  as  poets  can ; 
With  mortal  words,  her  chant  of  praise  to  bind, 
Then  die,  and  leave  the  poem  to  mankind  ? 

The  Star's  Monument . 


88 


. 


April  22 


“ That ’s  nothing,”  he  answered,  uttering  a great 
truth  without  perceiving  its  importance,  “ things  are 
perfectly  different,  and  are  always  reckoned  so  ac- 
cording to  the  person  who  does  them.” 

Don  yohn. 


April  23 


Our  own  faces,  seen  suddenly,  will  sometimes  tell 
us  things  concerning  ourselves  that  we  did  not  sus- 
pect before. 

Off  the  Skelligs. 


April  24 


Children,  ay,  forsooth, 

They  bring  their  own  love  with  them  when  they  come, 
But  if  they  come  not  there  is  peace  and  rest ; 

The  pretty  lambs ! and  yet  she  cries  for  more : 

Why  the  world ’s  full  of  them,  and  so  is  heaven  — 
They  are  not  rare. 

Supper  at  the  Mill . 


90 


April  22 


April  23 


April  24 


April  25 

What  though  unmarked  the  happy  workman  toil, 
And  break  unthanked  of  man  the  stubborn  clod  ? 
It  is  enough,  for  sacred  is  the  soil, 

Dear  are  the  hills  of  God. 

Far  better  in  its  place  the  lowliest  bird 

Should  sing  aright  to  Him  the  lowliest  song, 
Than  that  a seraph  strayed  should  take  the  word 
And  sing  His  glory  wrong. 

Honors . 

April  26 


He  was  indeed  a most  inconveniently  religious 
man  ; his  religion  was  of  a very  expensive  kind,  and 
was  all  mixed  up  with  his  philanthropy,  as  if  one 
could  not  be  religious  at  all  without  loving  those 
whom  God  loved,  and  as  if  one  could  not  love  them 
without  serving  them  to  the  best  of  one’s  power. 

Fated  to  be  Free . 


April  27 


He  always  reminds  me  of  an  onion  (for  we  all,  as 
it  is  said,  resemble  in  some  degree  one  or  other  of  the 
inferior  animals).  His  conscience  is  wrapped  round 
with  as  many  layers  to  cover  it  from  the  light  as  the 
heart  of  an  onion.  The  outside  layer  is  avarice. 
Yes  ; very  thick.  Peel  that  off,  you  come  to  a layer 
of  self-conceit ; peel  again,  you  come  to  his  scruples 
— a sort  of  mock  conscience. 

Sarah  De  Berenger. 


92 


April  25 

ST.  MARK. 


April  2 6 


April  27 


April  28 


Fain  would  I thy  margins  know, 

Land  of  work,  and  land  of  snow ; 

Land  of  life,  whose  rivers  flow 
On,  and  on,  and  stay  not. 

Mopsa  the  Fairy. 


April  29 


When  I remember  something  promised  me, 

But  which  I never  had,  nor  can  have  now, 
Because  the  promiser  we  no  more  see 
In  countries  that  accord  with  mortal  vow, 
When  I remember  this,  I mourn,  — but  yet, 

My  happier  days  are  not  the  days  when  I forget. 

Songs  with  Preludes . 


April  30  — 


Give  Thou  us  more.  We  look 
For  more.  The  heart  that  took 
All  spring-tide  for  itself  were  empty  still ; 

Its  yearning  is  not  spent 
Nor  silenced  in  content, 

Till  He  that  all  things  filleth  doth  it  sweetly  fill. 

Poems. 


94 


April  28 


April  29 


April  30 


m tmm 

fif  THE 

OIHVERSIITY  (H)F  NUUK* 


' 


a?  a p 


— 0 — 

When  in  a May-day  hush 
Chanteth  the  Missel-thrush 
The  harp  o’  the  heart  makes  answer  with  murmurous 
stirs  ; 

When  Robin-redbreast  sings, 

We  think  on  budding  springs, 

And  Culvers  when  they  coo  are  love's  remembrancers. 

Songs  on  the  Voices  of  Birds. 

All  the  clouds  about  the  sun  lay  up  in  golden  creases, 
(Merry  rings  the  maiden’s  voice  that  sings  at  dawn 
of  day  ;) 

Lambkins  woke  and  skipped  around  to  dry  their 
dewy  fleeces, 

So  sweetly  as  she  carolled,  all  on  a morn  of  May. 

Songs  of  the  Night  Watches. 

The  sky  was  blue  above  ; a cup  of  azure  light 
without  a cloud;  the  trees  were  one  mass  of  pure 
white  blossom,  and  under  foot  the  ground  was  cov- 
ered with  the  glossy  flat  leaves  and  yellow  astral  flow- 
ers of  the  celandine.  A blue  and  yellow  world  — all 
pure  white  and  pale  glory.  Was  there  no  red  at 
all  in  it  ? — Nothing  to  give  a hint  of  coming  damask 
roses  and  the  intense  pure  blush  of  the  carnation  ? 

Don  John . 


97 


May  i 


Give  us  Thyself.  The  May 
Dureth  so  short  a day; 

Youth  and  the  spring  are  over  all  too  soon; 

Content  us  while  they  last, 

Console  us  for  them  past, 

Thou  with  whom  bides  for  ever  life,  and  love,  and 
noon. 

Poems . 


May  2 


Heigh  ho ! daisies  and  buttercups, 

Fair  yellow  daffodils,  stately  and  tall  — 

A sunshiny  world  full  of  laughter  and  leisure, 

And  fresh  hearts  unconscious  of  sorrow  and  thrall ! 
Send  down  on  their  pleasure  smiles  passing  its 
measure, 

God  that  is  over  us  all ! 

Songs  of  Seven, . 


May  3 


Next  to  the  power  of  standing  outside  one’s  self, 
and  looking  at  me  as  other  folks  see  me,  the  most 
remarkable  is  this  of  (by  the  insight  of  genius  and 
imagination)  becoming  you.  The  first  makes  one 
sometimes  only  too  reasonable,  too  humble ; the 
second  warms  the  heart  and  enriches  the  soul,  for 
it  gives  the  charms  of  selfhood  to  beings  not  our- 
selves. 

Fated  to  be  Free . 


98 


May  i 

ST.  PHILIP  & ST.  JAMES. 


May  2 


May  3 


May  4 


“ She ’s  not  at  all  an  irreligious  woman,  though  she 
has  lived  to  be  ninety-four.  I don’t  know  how  she 
reconciles  that  with  ‘ the  days  of  our  life,’  you  know, 
‘ are  three  score  years  and  ten.’  At  the  same  time,” 
she  continued,  falling  into  thought,  “ I am  quite  clear 
that  it  would  not  be  right  of  her  to  hasten  matters.” 
Sarah  De  Berenger. 


May  5 


Somewhere,  in  the  counsels  known  on  high, 
Certain  as  the  southing  of  a star, 

Stands  the  hour  writ  down  when  I shall  die. 
Oh,  to  go  where  all  my  good  things  are, 
Calmly  as  the  southing  of  a star. 

Poems. 


May  6 


A great  many  people  think  of  religion  as  if  it  was 
a game  that  they  had  to  play  with  an  august  oppo- 
nent,— a game  at  which  both  could  not  win,  and 
yet  they  actually  think  they  can  play  it  unfairly. 
They  want  to  cheat.  But  in  that  grand  and  awful 
game,  it  cannot  be  said  that  either  wins  unless 
both  do. 

Off  the  Skelligs. 


May  7 


As  the  veil  of  broidery  fine 

For  the  temple  wrought  of  oldf 
Dropped  before  the  awful  shrine, 

Bloomed  in  purple,  gleamed  in  gold  j 

So  the  broidered  earth  and  sky, 

Ever  present,  always  near, 

Charm  the  soul  and  fill  the  eye  — 

Marvellous,  matchless,  beauteous,  dear. 

Poems. 

May  8 — — 

O fair,  O fine,  O lot  to  be  desired! 

Early  and  late  my  heart  appeals  to  me, 

And  says,  ‘ O work,  O will  — Thou  man,  be  fired 
To  earn  this  lot,’  — she  says,  ‘ I would  not  be 
A worker  for  mine  own  bread,  or  one  hired 
For  mine  own  profit.  O,  I would  be  free 
To  work  for  others  ; love  so  earned  of  them 
Should  be  my  wages  and  my  diadem. 

The  Star's  Monument. 

— : — May  g — 


How  natural  is  joy,  my  heart ! 

How  easy  after  sorrow’ ! 

For  once,  the  best  is  come  that  hope 
Promised  them  “ to-morrow.” 

Songs  of  the  Night  Watches. 


J 


102 


May  io 


When  Laura  saw  this  place  in  the  glen,  she  per- 
ceived plainly  that  there  was  no  one  with  whom  she 
might  be  humbly  happy  and  poor  — not  even  a 
plumber  ! 

This  form  of  human  sorrow  — certainly  one  of  the 
worst  — is  not  half  enough  pitied  by  the  happy. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


May  1 1 

“ Man  is  made  of  what  he  eats.  ‘ This  is  the  stuff 
our  heroes  are  made  of,’  as  the  Prince  of  Wales  said 
when  he  peeped  into  the  Eton  boys’ 4 sock  shop.’ 
Fetch,  who  was  listening,  burst  into  tears  and  said, 

‘ Alas  ! ’ ” 

“ Why,  Don  John  ? ” 

“ Because  he  thought  it  was  so  good  of  the  Prince 
of  Wales  to  take  notice  that  we  are  made  of  what 
we  eat,  and  because  he  remembered  that  asses  are 
too.”  Don  John. 

May  12 


’T  is  yours,  not  mine,  to  pluck  out  of  your  breast 
Some  human  truth,  whose  workings  recondite 
Were  unattired  in  words,  and  manifest 
And  hold  it  forth  to  light. 

Honors . 


104 


May  13 


Those  to  whom  music  is  always  welcome  must 
have  neither  an  empty,  heart  nor  a remorseful  con- 
science, nor  keen  recollections,  nor  a foreboding 
soul. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


May  14 

For  life  is  one,  and  in  its  warp  and  woof 
There  runs  a thread  of  gold  that  glitters  fair, 

And  sometimes  in  the  pattern  shows  most  sweet 
Where  there  are  sombre  colors.  It  is  true 
That  we  have  wept.  But  oh  ! this  thread  of  gold, 
We  would  not  have  it  tarnish ; let  us  turn 
Oft  and  look  back  upon  the  wondrous  web, 

And  when  it  shineth  sometimes  we  shall  know 
That  memory  is  possession. 

Songs  zvith  Preludes. 

— May  1 5 — 


Laura,  like  most  people,  was  in  the  habit  of  think- 
ing that  charity  was  all  giving  and  no  receiving, 
instead  of  which,  real  and  pure  charity  is  always 
both.  It  is  the  false  charity  that  gets  no  return. 
To  the  true  that  promise  yet  holds  good  — “ He  that 
watereth  shall  be  watered  also  himself.” 

Laura  Richmond. 


106 


— May  14 


I 


May  1 5 — — — — 


107 


May  13 


Those  to  whom  music  is  always  welcome  must 
have  neither  an  empty,  heart  nor  a remorseful  con- 
science, nor  keen  recollections,  nor  a foreboding 
soul. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


May  14 


For  life  is  one,  and  in  its  warp  and  woof 
There  runs  a thread  of  gold  that  glitters  fair, 

And  sometimes  in  the  pattern  shows  most  sweet 
Where  there  are  sombre  colors.  It  is  true 
That  we  have  wept.  But  oh  ! this  thread  of  gold, 
We  would  not  have  it  tarnish  ; let  us  turn 
Oft  and  look  back  upon  the  wondrous  web, 

And  when  it  shineth  sometimes  we  shall  know 
That  memory  is  possession. 

Songs  zvith  Preludes. 

— — May  15 — 


Laura,  like  most  people,  was  in  the  habit  of  think- 
ing that  charity  was  all  giving  and  no  receiving, 
instead  of  which,  real  and  pure  charity  is  always 
both.  It  is  the  false  charity  that  gets  no  return. 
To  the  true  that  promise  yet  holds  good  — “ He  that 
watereth  shall  be  watered  also  himself/’ 

Laura  Richmond. 


106 


May  13 


May  14 


( 


May  15 


io7 


May  16 

If  you  have  a piano,  one  note  of  which  in  the 
treble  is  mute,  not  one  tune  can  be  played  on  it,  — 
no  music  worth  having  can  be  drawn  from  it,  with- 
out making  the  defect  manifest ; and  yet  the  note  is 
not  actively  offensive,  it  merely  does  not  sound. 

Now,  call  the  piano  a family,  and  call  the  Cum- 
berer  a faulty  note,  and  you  at  once  see  the  harm 
she  does ; she  makes  the  tune  imperfect  when  it  does 
not  sound,  and  when  it  does  sound,  jars. 

The  Cumber ers. 

May  17 


The  heavens  are  better  than  this  earth  below, 
They  are  of  more  account  and  far  more  dear. 
We  will  look  up,  for  all  most  sweet  and  fair, 
Most  pure,  most  excellent,  is  garnered  there. 

The  Mariner's  Cave. 


May  18 

Thou  art  gone  up,  a throne  to  share, 

Yet  doth  Thy  man’s  heart,  even  there, 
Partaker  of  man’s  yearning  care, 

Love  to  the  end. 

The  odors  of  Thine  incense  fill 
The  Temple  courts,  the  heavenly  hill, 
Offered  with  prayers  of  saints  that  still 
Thither  ascend. 

Poems. 


May  17 


May  18 


May  19 


Leave  the  garden  walls,  where  blow 
Apple-blossoms  pink,  and  low 
Ordered  beds  of  tulips  fine. 

Seek  the  blossoms  made  divine 
With  a scent  that  is  their  soul. 

Married  Lovers . 


May  20 


That  that  is,  is ; and  when  it  is,  that  is  the  reason 
that  it  is. 


Mopsa  the  Fairy . 


May  21 


I have  often  thought  how  much  easier  it  is  to 
write  fiction  well  than  reality.  In  fiction,  poetical 
justice  is  always  done ; in  real  life,  the  justice  is  done, 
but  it  is  not  always  apparent. 

Studies  for  Stories . 


ITO 


May  19 


May  22 


The  wild  ass  tossing  his  mane  in  the  desert  is  so 
different  from  the  flounder  flopping  on  his  mud- 
bank,  that  he  cannot  hope  to  understand  him  and  his 
fashions. 

Don  yohn. 


May  23 

Ah ! little  bird  (he  thought),  most  patient  bird, 
Breasting  thy  speckled  eggs  the  long  day  through, 
By  so  much  as  my  reason  is  preferred 

Above  thine  instinct,  I my  work  would  do 
Better  than  thou  dost  thine.  Thou  hast  not  stirred 
This  hour  thy  wing.  Ah ! russet  bird,  I sue 
For  a like  patience  to  wear  through  these  hours  — 
Bird  on  thy  nest  among  the  apple-flowers. 

The  Star's  Monument . 

May  24 


You  see  the  vices  and  virtues  have  got  overhauled 
again,  and  sorted  differently  to  suit  our  convenience. 
Stealing’s  no  worse  probly  in  the  eyes  of  our  Maker 
than  lying  and  slandering ; not  so  bad,  mayhap,  as  a 
deep  sweer.  But  folks  air  so  tenacious  like,  they 
must  have  every  stick  and  stone  respected  that  they 
reckon  theirs. 

Fated  to  be  Free . 


112 


May  22 


May  23 


May  24 


"3 


There  is  something  very  pathetic  in  the  worship 
of  the  poor  and  rustic.  They  often  think  they  oblige 
the  clergyman  by  coming  to  church ; and  the  old 
have  a touching  humbleness  about  them ; they  feel 
a sincere  sense  of  how  worthless  they  are  in  this 
world,  which  they  could  hardly  have  attained  unless 
the  young  had  helped  them  to  it.  The  rich  mix  the 
world  with  their  prayers,  so  do  the  poor ; thus  — 
they  feel  that  they  come  and  say  them  with  their 
betters.  Sarah  De  Berenger . 

jlfay  26  

And  deign,  O Watcher,  with  the  sleepless  brow, 
Pathetic  in  its  yearning  — deign  reply: 

Is  there,  O is  there  aught  that  such  as  Thou 
Wouldst  take  from  such  as  I ? 

Are  there  no  briers  across  Thy  pathway  thrust  ? 
Are  there  no  thorns  that  compass  it  about  ? 

Nor  any  stones  that  Thou  wilt  deign  to  trust 
My  hands  to  gather  out  ? 

Poems. 


May  27 


Of  course,  none  of  us  would  like  to  die  now,  or 
soon,  or  at  any  specified  time ; and  yet,  if  we  were 
told  to-day,  that  we  were  all  going  to  live  for  five 
hundred  years,  I don’t  think  we  should  like  it.  We 
should  get  restless  and  fretful  as  children  do  if  they 
pass  the  time  when  they  should  sleep. 

Off  the  Skelligs. 


May  25 


May  26 


May  27 


May  28 


For  all  Christ  died,  and  once  for  all, 

No  souls  in  Him  are  lost ; 

But ’t  is  for  each  the  flame  must  fall, 

The  dower  at  Pentecost. 

Poems . 


May  29 


Her  face  betokened  all  things  dear  and  good, 

The  light  of  somewhat  yet  to  come  was  there 
Asleep,  and  waiting  for  the  opening  day, 

When  childish  thoughts,  like  flowers,  would  drift 
away. 

Margaret  in  the  Zebec . 


May  30  - — 

O velvet  bee,  you  ’re  a dusty  fellow, 

You ’ve  powdered  your  legs  with  gold  ! 

O brave  marsh  marybuds,  rich  and  yellow, 
Give  me  your  money  to  hold ! 

O columbine,  open  your  folded  wrapper, 
Where  two  twin  turtle-doves  dwell ! 

O cuckoo  pint,  toll  me  the  purple  clapper 
That  hangs  in  your  clear  green  bell  1 

Songs  of  Seven. 


116 


May  29  — 


MEMORIAL  DAY. 


May  30 


“ Bless  you,  whether  their  folks  air  rich  or  poor, 
they  never  think  at  that  age  what  it  costs  to  clothe 
’em.  I never  found  with  my  boys  that  they ’d  done 
climbing  for  crows’  eggs  till  such  time  as  they  bought 
their  own  breeches.  After  that,  trees  were  nought 
but  lumber,  and  crows  were  carrion.” 

Fated  to  be  Free . 


May  3 1 


120 


ike  mmi 

8F  THE 

nmmtr  sf  mm 


^une. 


The  slow  dusk  had  begun  to  gather ; large  flowers 
of  the  bind-weed,  trailing  over  the  low  wayside  hedge, 
were  mere  specks  of  milky  whiteness  ; he  could  but 
just  distinguish  between  them  and  the  dog-roses, 
could  hardly  detect  the  honeysuckle  but  for  its  fra- 
grance. 

Sarah  De  Berenger. 

How  beautiful  those  tall  white  lilies  were.  They 
enjoyed  themselves  in  secret  all  through  the  night, 
gave  out  their  scent,  drank  in  the  dew,  and  never  let 
men  and  women  find  out  that  the  night-time  was 
their  life  and  their  day.  The  great  evening  prim- 
roses, too,  white  and  yellow,  were  in  their  glory,  and 
it  seemed  as  if  they  also  were  keeping  it  secret,  and 
still. 

Don  John. 


121 


June  i 


i 

An  empty  sky,  a world  of  heather, 

Purple  of  foxglove,  yellow  of  broom; 

We  two  among  them  wading  together, 

Shaking  out  honey,  treading  perfume. 

Crowds  of  bees  are  giddy  with  clover, 

Crowds  of  grasshoppers  skip  at  our  feet, 

Crowds  of  larks  at  their  matins  hang  over, 
Thanking  the  Lord  for  a life  so  sweet. 

Poems. 

June  2 — : 


She  had  a soul  full  of  unused  treasures  of  emotion, 
and  pure,  clear  depths  of  passion  that  as  yet  slum- 
bered unstirred.  If  her  heart  was  a lute,  its  highest 
and  lowest  chords  had  never  been  sounded  hitherto, 
This  also  she  was  aware  of,  and  she  knew  what  their 
music  would  be  like  when  it  came. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


June  3 — 

It  is  a fearful  thing  for  a young  man  to  be  thought 
a prig  — almost  as  bad,  so  to  speak,  as  being  sus- 
pecte’d  of  burglary.  What  then  is  a prig  ? A prig 
is  -one  who  makes,  and  prides  himself  on  making, 
such  confident  and  high  profession  of  his  opinions, 
whatever  these  may  be,  that  though  he  should  act 
upon  them  never  so  consistently,  his  words  will,  not- 
withstanding, tower  above  and  seem  to  dwarf  his 
actions. 

Sarah  De  Berenger. 


1 22 


June  i 


June  2 


June  3 


June  4 


I have  long  noticed  that,  of  all  modern  people, 
the  Irish  suffer  least,  and  the  French  most,  from  the 
misery  of  envy.  The  poor  Frenchman  would  rather 
all  were  down  than  that  any  should  have  what  he 
has  not ; but  the  poor  Irishman,  wasteful  and  not 
covetous,  could  not  do  without  something  to  admire. 
One  of  these  two  takes  in  anguish  through  his  eyes, 
whenever  he  casts  them  on  beauty  or  riches  not  his; 
the  other  takes  in  consolation  through  his  eyes. 

Don  John. 

— — June  5 — * 


We  must  not  only  consider  whether  what  we  do  is 
a pleasure  in  some  instances,  but  whether  we  design 
it  to  be  a pleasure  to  our  families. 

Studies  for  Stories. 


June  6 


Fanny  did  not  know  that  sometimes  people  call 
their  discontent  aspiration,  as  being  a prettier  word, 
and  meaning  a more  respectable  thing. 

Dr.  Deane's  Governess . 


124 


June  7 

Some  people  are  fond  of  making  out  that  a future 
state  is  to  be  very  like  this,  only  better,  and  that  we 
are  to  have  back  again  what  we  have  lost  here.  I 
don?t  agree  to  that.  We  want  something  better  and 
different,  not  better  and  like.  I consider  that  for  a 
permanent  life  we  want  many  new  powers,  and  I 
trust  the  Almighty  that  we  shall  have  them  — one 
of  them  is  the  power  to  be  unwearied  by  possession 
and  continuance. 

Off  the  Skelligs. 

June  8 

Come  out  and  hear  the  waters  shoot,  the  owlet  hoot, 
the  owlet  hoot ; 

Yon  crescent  moon,  a golden  boat,  hangs  dim  be- 
hind the  tree,  O ! 

The  dropping  thorn  makes  white  the  grass,  O sweet- 
est lass,  and  sweetest  lass  ; 

Come  out  and  smell  the  ricks  of  hay  adown  the 
croft  with  me,  O ! 

Songs  of  the  Night  Watches. 

June  9 


Thou  hast  been  alway  good  to  me  and  mine 
Since  our  first  father  by  transgression  fell. 
Through  all  Thy  sorest  judgments  love  doth  shine  — 
Lord,  of  a truth,  Thou  doest  all  things  well. 

Poems. 


126 


June  7 


— June  8 


June  9 


127 


ynne  io 


Some  people  never  really  have  anything.  It  is 
not  only  that  they  can  get  no  good  out  of  things 
(that  is  common  even  among  those  who  are  able 
• both  to  have  and  to  hold),  but  that  they  don’t  know 
how  to  reign  over  their  possessions  and  appropriate 
them. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


June  1 1 


“ It ’s  always  a graceful  thing  to  unbend,”  as  the 
gold  stick-in-waiting  said  when  he  balanced  a pep- 
permint-drop on  his  nose,  as  he  stood  behind  the 
queen’s  chair. 

Don  yohn. 


ynne  1 2 

There  is  nothing  like  action  to  show  a man  what 
he  really  is.  Till  the  decisive  moment  came  he  had 
not  perhaps  the  remotest  suspicion  that  he  cared  for 
human  life  in  the  abstract ; and  here  he  stands  drip- 
ping, having  risked  his  own  to  save  that  of  an  abso- 
lute stranger.  For  the  future  he  knows  all.  He 
perceives  the  awful  and  mysterious  oneness  of  hu- 
manity, how  it  draws  the  units  to  the  whole.  He  is 
not  independent,  as  he  may  have  thought ; he  is  a 
part  of  all. 

Sarah  De  Berenger. 


128 


June  io 

ST.  BARNABAS. 


June  1 1 


June  13 


“ Shall  not  the  Fashioner  command  His  work  ? 
And  who  am  I,  that,  if  He  whisper,  ‘ Rise, 

Go  forth  upon  Mine  errand,’  should  reply, 

‘ Lord,  God,  I love  the  woman  and  her  sons,  — 
I love  not  scorning : I beseech  Thee,  God, 

Have  me  excused.’  ” 

A Story  of  Doom. 

June  14 — 


Reverend  as  Lear,  when,  lorn  of  shelter,  he 

Stood,  with  his  old  white  head,  surprised  at  fate ; 
Alone  as  Galileo,  when,  set  free, 

Before  the  stars  he  mused  disconsolate. 

A Snoiv  Mountain. 


June  1 5 

You  are  a well,  whereon  I,  gazing,  see 
Reflections  of  the  upper  heavens — a well 
From  whence  come  deep,  deep  echoes  up  to  me— - 
Some  underwave’s  low  swell. 

I cannot  soar  into  the  heights  you  show, 

Nor  dive  among  the  deeps  that  you  reveal ; 

But  it  is  much  that  high  things  are  to  know, 

That  deep  things  are  to  feel. 

Honors. 


13° 


June  13 


June  14 


June  15 


■31 


June  1 6 


O sleep,  we  are  beholden  to  thee,  sleep, 

Thou  bearest  angels  to  us  in  the  night, 

Saints  out  of  heaven  with  palms.  Seen  by  thy  light 
Sorrow  is  some  old  tale  that  goeth  not  deep ; 

Love  is  a pouting  child. 

Sleep. 


— June  1 7 

The  man  with  no  ear  for  music  feels  his  sense  of 
justice  outraged  when  people  shudder  while  his 
daughter  sings.  Why  won’t  they  listen  to  her  songs 
as  to  one  another’s?  There  is  no  difference. 

With  a like  feeling  those  who  have  hardly  any 
sense  of  humor  are  half  offended  when  others  laugh, 
while  they  seem  to  be  shut  out  for  not  perceiving 
any  cause.  Occasionally  knowing  themselves  to  be 
sensible  people,  they  think  it  evident  that  their  not 
seeing  the  joke  must  be  because  it  is  against  them. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 

■ June  1 8 


Money  will  make  us  work,  but  money  will  not 
make  us  give  our  hearts  to  the  work,  — nothing  but 
love  for  the  work  or  real  good  principle  can  make 
us  do  that. 

Emily's  Ambition. 

■ 


132 


June  1 6 


ynne  17 

BATTLE  OF  BUNKER  HILL. 


— June  1 8 


June  19 


He  was  prodigal  of  his  speech,  did  not  save  up 
his  thoughts  as  if  he  expected  them  one  day  to  fail. 
He  was  not  afraid  to  be  fully  alive  now,  lest  he 
might  flag  afterwards.  With  him  it  was  always 
spring-tide  and  full  moon. 

Off  the  Skelligs . 


June  20 


When  our  thoughts  are  born, 
Though  they  be  good  and  humble,  one  should  mind 
How  they  are  reared,  or  some  will  go  astray 
And  shame  their  mother.  Cain  and  Abel  both 
Were  only  once  removed  from  innocence. 

Gladys  and  her  Island . 


June  2 1 


The  most  joyous  and  gladsome  natures  are  often 
most  keenly  alive  to  impressions  of  reverence,  and 
wonder,  and  awe.  Emily’s  mind  longed  and  craved 
to  annex  itself  to  all  things  fervent,  deep,  and  real. 
As  she  walked  on  the  common  grass,  she  thought 
the  better  of  it  because  the  feet  of  Christ  had  trod- 
den it  also. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


1 34 


June  19 


June  20 


Jtme  21 


June  22 

That  high  song 
Of  the  heart,  it  doth  belong 
To  the  hearers.  Not  a whit, 

Though  a chief  musician  heard, 

Could  he  make  a tune  for  it. 

Though  a lute  full  deftly  strung, 

And  the  sweetest  bird  e’er  sung, 

Could  have  tried  it. 

Contrasted  Songs. 

June  23 


“ There  are  many  people  in  the  world  who  don’t 
know  what  they  really  are  till  circumstances  show 
them.”  “ And  a very  good  thing,  too,”  she  ex- 
claimed, “for  some  of  us.  If  the  pepper-castor 
could  know  what  it  really  was,  it  would  always  be 
sneezing  its  top  off.” 

Sarah  De  Berenger \ 


j rune  24 

Midsummer  night,  not  dark,  not  light, 
Dusk  all  the  scented  air, 

I ’ll  e’en  go  forth  to  one  I love, 

And  learn  how  he  doth  fare. 

0 the  ring,  the  ring,  my  dear,  for  me, 

The  ring  was  a world  too  fine, 

1 wish  it  had  sunk  in  a forty-fathom  sea, 
Or  ever  thou  mad’st  it  mine. 

Poems. 


June  22 


June  23 


June  24 

NAT.  OF  ST.  JOHN  BAPTIST. 


T37 


— — June  25 

Many  a delicate  invalid,  who  overtasks  herself, 
thinks  herself,  notwithstanding,  a burden,  while 
teaching,  by  her  example,  the  most  improving  les- 
sons of  patience  and  resignation ; and  many  an 
awkward,  yet  warm-hearted  and  eager  girl,  wTeeping 
over  her  various  mistakes  and  short-comings,  in 
her  anxious  attempts  to  be  kind  and  to  do  a great 
deal  in  a little  time,  has  been  ready  to  take  to  her- 
self the  appellation,  false  indeed  in  her  case,  of  a 
Cumberer. 

The  Cumber ers. 

— June  26 

It  may  be  there  are-  many  in  like  case  : 

They  give  themselves,  and  are  in  misery 
Because  the  gift  is  small,  and  doth  not  make 
The  world  by  so  much  better  as  they  fain 
Would  have  it.  ’T  is  a fault ; but,  as  for  us, 

Let  us  not  blame  them.  Maybe,  ’t  is  a fault 
More  kindly  looked  on  by  The  Majesty 
Than  our  best  virtues  are.  Why,  what  are  wre’ 
What  have  we  given,  and  what  have  we  desired 
To  give  the  world  ? Monitions  of  the  Unseen. 

June  27 

Who  does  not  like  to  watch  the  stately  white 
cloud  lying  becalmed  over  the  woods,  and  waiting  in 
a rapture  of  rest  for  a wind  to  come  and  float  it  on  ? 
Yet  we  might  not  have  cared  to  see  the  cloud  take 
her  rest,  but  for  the  sweetness  of  rest  to  ourselves. 
The  plough  turned  over  on  one  side  under  a hedge, 
wdiile  the  ploughman  rests  at  noon,  might  hint  to  us 
what  is  the  key-note  of  that  chord  which  makes  us 
think  the  rest  of  the  cloud  so  fair. 

Fated  to  be  Free* 


June  25 


June  26' 


June  27 


June  2 8 


It  would  be  very  unlucky  for  cats  if  people  in  a 
body  should  discover  how  much  more  jolly  it  was  to 
be  out  in  the  warm  golden  mist  of  moonlight,  when 
all  was  so  fresh  and  sweet,  than  tucked  up  in  their 
heated  bedrooms  under  the  low  ceiling  that  shuts  out 
the  stars. 

Don  John. 


-*June  29 


Ah  ! thou  art  no  more  thine  own. 

Mine,  mine,  O love  ! Tears  gather  ’neath  my  lids, — 
Sorrowful  tears  for  thy  lost  liberty, 

Because  it  was  so  sweet.  Thy  liberty, 

That  yet,  O love,  thou  wouldst  not  have  again. 

No  ; all  is  right.  But  who  can  give,  or  bless, 

Or  take  a blessing,  but  there  comes  withal 
Some  pain  ? 

Songs  zvit/i  Preludes.  . 

- — June  30 


Quoth  the  ocean,  “Dawn  I O fairest,  clearest, 
Touch  me  with  thy  golden  fingers  bland ; 

For  I have  no  smile  till  thou  appearest 
For  the  lovely  land.” 

Winstanley . 


140 


June  28 


ST.  PETER. 


June  29" — 


— June  30 


Kc  LIBRARY 

If 

wwg  mitt  ef  i iimm 


fuip 


A meadow  where  the  grass  was  deep, 

Rich,  square,  and  golden  to  the  view, 

A belt  of  elms  with  level  sweep 
About  it  grew. 

The  sun  beat  down  on  it,  the  line 
Of  shade  was  clear  beneath  the  trees ; 

There,  by  a clustering  eglantine, 

We  sat  at  ease. 

And  O the  buttercups  ! that  field 

O’  the  cloth  of  gold,  where  pennons  swam  — 
Where  France  set  up  his  lilied  shield, 

His  oriflamb, 

And  Henry’s  lion-standard  rolled  : 

What  was  it  to  their  matchless  sheen, 

Their  million  million  drops  of  gold 
Among  the  green  ! 

The  Letter  L. 


H3 


July  i 


It  is  a delightful  help  merely  not  to  be  hindered. 

Studies  for  Stories. 


July  2 


Your  best  and  most  thorough  charity  is  that  which 
tends  to  make,  and  ends  in  making,  its  object  inde- 
pendent of  charity ; which,  in  fact,  works  to  its  own 
extinction. 

A Sister’s  Bye-Hours . 


July  3 


He  had  no  pride ; he  did  n’t  mind  shouting  for  a 
poor  man.  Preached  just  as  long  and  just  as  loud, 
he  did,  in  bad  weather,  when  he  had  nobbut  a few 
old  creeturs  and  poor  Simon  Graves  the  cripple  for 
congregation,  as  when  the  most  chiefest  draper  and 
his  lady  walked  over  from  the  town  to  attend. 

Sarah  De  Berenger , 


144 


July  I 


July  2 


July  3 


r45 


July  4 — 

Our  heroes  die  and  drop  away  from  us  ; 

Oblivion  folds  them  ’neath  her  dusky  wing, 

Fair  copies  wasted  to  the  hungering  world. 

Save  them.  We  fall  so  low  for  lack  of  them, 

That  many  of  us  think  scorn  of  honest  trade, 

And  take  no  pride  in  our  own  shops  ; who  care 
Only  to  quit  a calling,  will  not  make 
The  calling  what  it  might  be  ; who  despise 
Their  work,  Fate  laughs  at,  and  doth  let  the  work 
Dull  and  degrade  them.  Gladys  and  her  Island. 

July  5 

The  poetical  temperament  of  Emily's  mind  made 

her  frequently  change  places  with  others,  and,  in- 
deed, become  in  thought  those  others  — fears,  feel- 
ings, and  all. 

“ What  are  you  crying  for,  Emily  ? ” her  mother 
had  once  said  to  her,  when  she  was  a little  child. 

“ I ’m  not  Emily  now,”  she  answered ; “I'm  the 
poor  little  owl,  and  I can’t  help  crying  because  that 
cruel  Smokey  barked  at  me  and  frightened  me  ” 

Fated  to  be  Free. 

July  6 


“ What ’s  the  joke  ? ” as  the  ghost  asked  of  the 
laughing  hyena.  “ Dear  sir,”  he  answered,  “ you 
can’t  see  a joke  in  the  dark.” 

Don  John. 


July  4 


INDEPENDENCE  DA  Y. 


July  5 


July  6 


July  7 


“ Far-seeing  heart ! if  that  be  all, 

The  happy  things  that  did  not  fall,” 

I sighed,  “ from  every  coppice  call. 

They  never  from  that  garden  went. 
Behold  their  joy,  so  comfort  thee, 

Behold  the  blossom  and  the  bee, 

For  they  are  yet  as  good  and  free 
As  when  poor  Eve  was  innocent.” 

Scholar  and  Carpenter. 

July  8 


We  wish  for  more  in  life,  rather  than  for  more  of 
it ; and  if  it  were  to  contain  no  new  elements,  I do  not 
think  the  human  race  (if  it  might  consider  the  ques- 
tion for  itself  as  a whole)  would  care  to  have  it 
lengthened. 

Off  the  Skelligs. 


July  9 


She  soon  began  to  feel  low-spirited  and  restless, 
while,  like  a potato-plant  in  a dark  cellar,  she  put 
forth  long  runners  towards  the  light,  and  no  light 
was  to  be  found.  This  homely  simile  ought  to  be 
forgiven,  because  it  is  such  a good  one. 

Fated  to  be  Free . 


148 


July  7 


July  8 


July  9 


July  io 


Man  is  the  miracle  in  nature.  God 
Is  the  One  Miracle  to  man.  Behold, 

“ There  is  a God,”  thou  sayest.  Thou  sayest  well ; 
In  that  thou  sayest  all-  To  Be  is  more 
Of  wonderful,  than  being,  to  have  wrought, 

Or  reigned,  or  rested. 

A Story  of  Doom. 

— July  I I — 


Shall  I be  slave  to  every  noble  soul, 

Study  the  dead,  and  to  their  spirits  bend  ; » 

Or  learn  to  read  my  own  heart’s  folded  scroll, 
And  make  self-rule  my  end  ? 

Honors . 


July  I 2 ; 

I have  heard  it  said  that  the  envious  person, 
though  he  is  made  miserable  by  his  neighbor’s  pros- 
perity, does  nothing  to  diminish  that  prosperity,  — 
he  is,  in  short,  no  one’s  enemy  but  his  own.  The 
envious  person  is,  in  truth,  his  own  enemy,  but  he 
is  as  truly  the  enemy  of  every  one  whom  he  envies. 
This  passion,  like  all  others,  must  seek  to  display 
itself  in  action.  They  who  bitterly  envy  cannot  pos- 
sibly refrain  from  showing  it  and  acting  on  it. 

My  Great- Aunt' s Picture . 


T5° 


I July  1 3 

. 

I have  learned  to  notice,  that  it  is  both  natural 
and  inevitable,  that  those  who  have  no  settled  occu- 
pation themselves,  should  be  those  most  prone  to 
find  fault  with  the  work  of  others. 

The  Cumberers. 


— July  14  

O mother  Eve,  who  wert  beguiled  of  old, 

Thy  blood  is  in  thy  children,  thou  art  yet 
Their  fate  and  copy ; with  thy  milk  they  drew 
The  immortal  want  of  morning ; but  thy  day 
Dawned  and  was  over,  and  thy  children  know 
Contentment  never,  nor  continuance  long. 

For  even  thus  it  is  with  them  : the  day 
Waxeth,  to  wane  anon,  and  a long  night 
Leaves  the  dark  heart  unsatisfied  with  stars. 

Letters  on  Life  and  The  Morning. 

July  15 

Scorn  of  self  is  bitter  work, — 

Each  of  us  has  felt  it  now  : 

Bluest  skies  she  counted  mirk, 
Self-betrayed  of  eyes  and  brow ; 

As  for  me,  I went  my  way, 

And  a better  man  drew  nigh, 

Fain  to  earn,  with  long  essay, 

What  the  winner’s  hand  threw  by. 

Contrasted  Songs. 


L52 


ytily  1 6 


The  child  is  to  the  father  and  mother,  who  im- 
parted life  to  him,  and  who  see  his  youth,  the  most 
excellent  consolation  that  nature  can  afford  them  for 
the  loss  of  their  own  youth,  and  for  the  shortness  of 
life  in  themselves ; but  if  a mother  is  therefore  con- 
vinced that  her  child  is  a consoler  to  those  who  have 
none,  he  is  sure,  at  some  time  or  other,  to  be  con- 
sidered an  unmitigated  bore. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 

— : July  1 7 

Consider  it 

(This  outer  world  we  tread  on)  as  a harp,  — 

A gracious  instrument  on  whose  fair  strings 
We  learn  those  airs  we  shall  be  set  to  play 
When  mortal  hours  are  ended.  Why  shouldst  thou 
Lie  grovelling  ? More  is  won  than  e’er  was  lost : 
Inherit.  Let  thy  day  be  to  thy  night 
A teller  of  good  tidings.  Let  thy  praise 
Go  up  as  birds  go  up  that,  when  they  wake, 

Shake  off  the  dew  and  soar.  Dominion . 

— July  1 8 


We  often  think  we  are  of  great  importance  to  cer- 
tain people  ; that  they  must  be  thinking  of  us  and 
our  affairs,  that  they  watch  our  actions  and  shape 
their  course  accordingly.  In  general  it  is  not  so ; 
we  are  quite  mistaken. 

Don  John. 


1 54 


July  1 6 


July  17 


July  1 8 


July  19 


Sympathy  is  a skittish  and  perverse  nymph  ; de- 
mand too  much  and  she  gives  nothing.  When  a 
soldier  has  lost  his  arm,  if  he  were  to  go  whining 
about  the  world  lamenting  over  it,  everybody  would 
despise  him  ; but  if  he  holds  his  tongue,  and  carries 
his  empty  sleeve  carelessly,  all  the  girls  are  in  love 
with  him. 

Off  the  Skelligs. 


July  20 


The  human  mind  is  always  inexorable  in  demand- 
ing a motive  for  all  human  actions.  It  is  only  him- 
self that  each  man  permits  to  act  without  one,  and 
avails  himself  of  the  privilege  with  astonishing  fre- 
quency. 

Sarah  De  Berenger. 


July  21 


It  is  a woman’s  duty,  if  she  has  many  lovers,  to  set 
them  free  from  vain  hopes,  by  choosing  as  soon 
among  them  as  she  can,  even  if  she  make  some  sac- 
rifice to  do  it,  with  only  a sincere  preference  for  one 
and  no  great  enthusiasm. 

Don  John. 


156 


July  19 


July  20 


July  21 


J 57 


July  22 


Nor  do  they  well  whose  work 
Is  still  to  feed  and  shelter  them  and  theirs, 

Get  gain,  and  gathered  store  it,  to  think  scorn 
Of  those  who  work  for  a world  (no  wages  paid 
By  a Master  hid  in  light),  and  sent  alone 
To  face  a laughing  multitude,  whose  eyes 
Are  full  of  damaging  pity,  that  forbears 
To  tell  the  harmless  laborer,  “Thou  art  mad.” 
A Story  of  Boom, 


July  23 

Soft  falls  the  dew,  stars  tremble  through, 

Where  lone  he  sits  apart. 

Would  I might  steal  his  grief  away 
To  hide  in  mine  own  heart. 

W ould,  would ’t  were  shut  in  yon  blossom  fair, 
The  sorrow  that  bows  thy  head, 

Then  — I would  gather  it,  to  thee  unaware, 

And  break  my  heart  in  thy  stead. 

Poems. 


July  24 


“ Why,  he ’s  as  good  as  a knife  that  has  pared 
onions,  sir,  — everything  it  touches  relishes  of  ’em.” 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


158 


July  23 


July  24 


July  25 


Fools  are  not  rare,  either  male  or  female ; as  they 
arrange  the  world  and  its  ways  in  great  measure,  it 
is  odd  that  they  do  not  understand  one  another 
better. 

Fated  to  be  Free . 


July  26 


And  some  were  cross  and  shivered,  and  her  dames 
Were  weary  and  right  hard  to  please ; but  she 
Felt  like  a beggar  suddenly  endowed 
With  a warm  cloak  to  ’fend  her  from  the  cold. 

“ For,  come  what  will,”  she  said,  “ I had  to-day .” 
Gladys  and  her  Island . 


July  27 


There  is  nothing  so  sweet  as  duty,  and  all  the  best 
pleasures  of  life  come  in  the  wake  of  duties  done. 

Don  John . 


160 


July  25 

ST.  JAMES. 


July  26 


7 rdy  27 


July  28 


What  a bore  it  is,  that  the  dull  and  uneducated 
and  unimaginative  should  possess  a dogged  con- 
tempt for  danger,  and  a kind  of  stupid  fearlessness 
that  we  are  never  to  have.  I do  not  see  how  a 
highly  imaginative  man  can  have  much  animal 
courage. 

Off  the  Skelligs. 


July  29 


Is  there  such  path  already  made  to  fit 
The  measure  of  my  foot  ? It  shall  atone 
For  much,  if  I at  length  may  light  on  it 
And  know  it  for  mine  own. 

Honors . 


July  3Q_ 

Nothing,  perhaps,  differs  more  than  the  amount  of 
affection  felt  by  different  people  ; there  is  no  gauge 
for  it  — language  cannot  convey  it.  Yet  instinctive 
perception  shows  us  where  it  is  great.  Some  feel 
little,  and  show  all  that  little  becomingly;  others 
feel  much,  and  reveal  scarcely  anything ; but,  on  the 
whole,  men  are  not  deceived,  each  gets  the  degree 
of  help  and  sympathy  that  was  due  to  him. 

Fated  to  be  Free . 


162 


July  28 


July  29 


July  30 


July  3 1 


O last  love  ! O first  love  ! 

My  love  with  the  true  heart, 

To  think  I have  come  to  this  your  home, 
And  yet  — we  are  apart ! 

Contrasted  Songs. 


164 


July  31 


m LlBRAflY 
OF  THE 

NINfifttlTY  «F  \m*m 


. 


. 


3E  u 0 u ^ t 


And  lo  ! the  sun  is  coming.  Red  as  rust 
Between  the  latticed  blind  his  presence  burns, 

A ruby  ladder  running  up  the  wall ; 

And  all  the  dust,  printed  with  pigeons’  feet, 

Is  reddened,  and  the  crows  that  stalk  anear 
Begin  to  trail  for  heat  their  glossy  wings, 

And  the  red  flowers  give  back  at  once  the  dew, 

For  night  is  gone,  and  day  is  born  so  fast, 

And  is  so  strong,  that,  huddled  as  in  flight, 

The  fleeting  darkness  paleth  to  a shade, 

And  while  she  calls  to  sleep  and  dreams  “ Come  on,” 
Suddenly  waked,  the  sleepers  rub  their  eyes, 

Which  having  opened,  lo  ! she  is  no  more. 

A fternoon  at  a Parsonage. 

How  hot  it  was  that  morning  ! and  as  the  boat 
pushed  itself  into  a little  creek,  and  made  its  way 
among  the  beds  of  yellow  and  purple  iris  which 
skirted  the  brink,  what  a crowd  of  dragon-flies  and 
large  butterflies  rose  from  them. 

Mopsa  the  Fairy . 


167 


Ait  gust  i 


The  summer  night  draws  near  its  noon; 

The  wheat  fields  rustle  nigh ; 

A golden  reaping-hook  — the  moon 
Hangs  like  a sign  on  high. 

Poems. 


August  2 — 

She  was  “of  imagination  all  compact;”  but  that  is 
a very  unlucky  case  where  there  is  weak  judgment, 
little  or  no  keenness  of  observation,  a treacherous 
memory,  and  a boundless  longing  for  the  good 
things  of  life.  Of  all  gifts,  imagination,  being  the 
greatest,  is  least  worth  having,  unless  it  is  well 
backed  either  by  moral  culture  or  by  other  intellect- 
ual qualities.  It  is  the  crown  of  all  thoughts  and 
powers ; but  you  cannot  wear  a crown  becomingly  if 
you  have  no  head  (worth  mentioning)  to  put  it  on. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 

August  3 


Learn  that  to  love  is  the  one  way  to  know, 

Or  God  or  man : it  is  not  love  received 
That  maketh  man  to  know  the  inner  life 
Of  them  that  love  him  ; his  own  love  bestowed 
Shall  do  it. 

A Story  of  Doom. 


1 68 


August  i 


August  2 


- August  3 


August  4 


She  was  one  of  those  people  to  whom  a compli- 
ment is  absolute  poison.  The  first  man  who  casu- 
ally chanced  to  say  something  to  her  in  her  early 
youth,  which  announced  to  her  that  he  thought  her 
lovely,  changed  her  thoughts  about  herself  for  ever 
after. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 

August  5 


All  she  said  and  did  and  wore,  appeared  to  be  a 
part  of  herself ; there  was  a sweet  directness,  a placid 
oneness  about  her,  which  inspired  belief  and  caused 
contentment. 

Don  John. 


August  6 


Youth!  youth!  how  buoyant  are  thy  hopes  1 they 
turn, 

Like  marigolds,  toward  the  sunny  side. 

The  Four  Bridges. 


August  4 


August  5 


August  6 


Augi{st  7 


Even  if  you  quench  me,  you  will  be  disappointed, 
as  the  wild  Tartar  is  who,  when  he  spies  a man 
that’s  handsome,  valiant,  wise,  if  he  can  kill  him, 
thinks  to  inherit  his  wit,  his  wisdom,  and  his  spirit ; 
or,  as  that  famous  schoolman  was,  who  swallowed 
his  enemy’s  knife,  that  it  might  be  handy  to  whet  his 
words  and  sharpen  his  tongue  on,  but  found  it  cut 
short  all  his  arguments. 

Off  the  Skelligs. 

August  8 


Quoth  the  hero  dying,  whelmed  in  glory, 

“ Many  blame  me,  few  have  understood  ; 

Ah,  my  folk,  to  you  I leave  a story,  — 

Make  its  meaning  good.” 

Quoth  the  folk,  “ Sing,  poet ! teach  us,  prove  us ; 

Surely  we  shall  learn  the  meaning  then  ; 
Wound  us  with  a pain  divine,  O move  us, 

For  this  man  of  men.” 

Winstanley. 

— August  9 — 


O Life,  be  Life  indeed,  true  faith  afford, 

Let  us  cry,  also,  “ We  have  seen  the  Lord.” 

Poems . 


172 


August  7 


August  8 


August  9 " 


*73 


August  10 


And  I am  so  delighted  with  this  world, 

That  suddenly  has  grown,  being  new  washed, 
To  such  a smiling,  clean,  and  thankful  world, 
And  with  a tender  face  shining  through  tears, 
Looks  up  into  the  sometime  lowering  sky, 
That  has  been  angry,  but  is  reconciled, 

And  just  forgiving  her,  that  I, — that  I, — 

O,  I forget  myself. 

Gladys  and  her  Island. 

August  I I 


And  yet,  if  after  a man’s  death,  his  relations  were 
to  sit  in  judgment  on  him,  and  were  to  bring  out  and 
make  a great  heap  of  all  the  things  they  thought  he 
had  not  earned  with  perfect  honesty,  and  were  to 
allow  the  unscrupulous  to  have  a free  fight  over 
them,  each  appropriating  what  he  could  for  his  own 
benefit,  would  that  make  the  world  any  better  than 
it  is  ? 

Sarah  De  Berenger . 

August  12 


She  longed  to  be  sought  more  than  she  cared  to 
be  won  ; it  soothed  and  comforted  what  had  been  a 
painful  sense  of  disadvantage  to  know  that  one 
man  at  least  had  sighed  for  her  in  vain. 

Fated  to  be  Free . 


174 


August  io 


August  II 


August  12 


August  13 


And  yet  to  you  and  not  to  me  belong 
Those  finer  instincts  that,  like  second  sight 
And  hearing,  catch  creation’s  undersong, 

And  see  by  inner  light. 

Honors . 


August  14 


Every  right  and  natural  responsibility  of  which  you 
relieve  a man,  taking  it  on  yourself,  makes  him  less 
able  to  bear  those  responsibilities  that  nothing  can 
relieve  him  of.  If  you  could  take  all  his  duties  from 
him,  as  we  sometimes  do,  it  would  only  make  it  cer- 
tain that  he  would  not  then  even  do  his  duty  by 
himself. 

Sarah  De  Berenger. 

— — — August  15 


When  we  see  family  likeness,  which  we  constantly 
do,  we  think  how  natural  it  is  ; but  when  we  see 
family  unlikeness,  which  we  also  constantly  do,  it 
never  costs  us  a moment’s  surprise,  a moment’s 
thought. 

Don  John. 


176 


August  13 


August  14 


August  15 


August  1 6 


Oh  ! we  are  far  too  happy  while  they  last ; 

We  have  our  good  things  first,  and  they  cost  naught ; 
Then  the  new  splendor  comes  unfathomed,  vast, 

A costly  trouble,  ay,  a sumptuous  thought, 

And  will  not  wait,  and  cannot  be  possessed, 

Though  infinite  yearnings  fold  \t  to  the  breast. 

Margaret  in  the  Zebec. 


— August  17  — — — 

Said  he  to  me  this  morning,  “ Misfortunes  in  this, 
life  is  what  we  all  hev  to  expect.  They  ought  not  to 
surprise  us,”  said  he  ; “ they  never  surprise  me,  nor 
nothing  does.”  It’s  true  too.  And  he ’s  allers  for 
making  a sensible  observation,  as  he  thinks  (that 
shows  what  a fool  he  is).  No,  if  he  was  to  meet  a 
man  with  three  heads,  he  would  n’t  own  as  he  was 
surprised ; he ’d  merely  say,  “ Y ou  must  find  this 
here  dispensation  very  expensive  in  hats.” 

Fated  to  be  Free . 

August  18 


He  was  a graduate  in  nature’s  university.  Nature 
is  wiser  than  the  schoolmaster  ; she  educates,  but 
she  never  crams.  Her  scholars  do  not  go  up  to  take 
their  degrees  ; their  degrees  come  to  them. 

Sarah  De  Berenger . 


178 


August  \ 6 


August  1 7 


August  1 8 


i79 


August  19 


I have  several  times  observed  that  nobody  thanks 
one  for  giving  up  what  is  clearly  one’s  own,  — not 
even  the  person  for  whom  it  is  done  ; for  he  either 
thinks  it  is  all  right,  which  is  a pity,  — or  he  knows 
it  is  not  all  right,  and  by  accepting  it  lowers  himself, 
— or  he  does  not  think  about  it,  which  is  nearly  as 
bad. 

Off  the  Skelligs. 


August  20 


Ecstatic  chirp  of  winged  thing, 

Or  bubbling  of  the  water-spring, 

Are  sounds  that  more  than  silence  bring 
Itself  and  its  delightsomeness. 

Scholar  and  Carpenter. 


August  21  

When  the  rose  of  thine  own  being 
Shall  reveal  its  central  fold, 

Thou  shalt  look  within  and  marvel, 

Fearing  what  thine  eyes  behold  ; 

What  it  shows  and  what  it  teaches 
Are  not  things  wherewith  to  part ; 

Thorny  rose  ! that  always  costeth 
Beatings  at  the  heart. 

Poems. 


180 


August  19 


August  20  - 


August  2t 


181 


- August  22 


Young  girls,  when  reluctant  to  do  any  particular 
thing,  often  find  their  shoulders  in  the  way.  These 
useful,  and  generally  graceful,  portions  of  the  hu- 
man frame  appear  on  such  occasions  to  feel  a wish 
to  put  themselves  forward,  as  if  to  bear  the  brunt  of 
it,  and  their  manner  is  to  do  this  edgeways. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


August  23  


She  was  a sweet-tempered  young  creature,  had 
never  done  any  particular  good  in  the  world;  but 
then  what  opportunity  had  she  found?  for  the  same 
reason  possibly  she  had  never  done  any  particular 
harm. 

Don  John. 


August  24  — 


lie  could  not  escape  thinking  of  her,  being  the 
slave  for  the  moment  of  every  pretty  girl.  Good 
young  men  generally  are. 

Sarah  De  Berenger. 


) 


182 


- August  22 


August  23 


— August  24 

ST  BARTHOLOMEW 


Angus/  25 


Half  an  hour  of  hope  and  joy  consoles  for  much 
foregone  trouble,  and  further  satisfies  the  heart  by 
making  it  an  easier  thing  to  believe  in  more  yet  to 
come. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


August  26 


How  little  we  can  know  of  the  inner  life  of  those 
about  us  ! The  affection  we  rested  in  and  that  was 
proclaimed  to  the  world  may  fade  and  perish,  while 
unsuspected  by  us  our  names  may  be  precious  to 
some  common  acquaintance  whom  we  seldom  trou- 
ble ourselves  to  think  about. 

Off  the  Skelligs . 


Augtisi  27 


Fare  thee  well,  my  love  of  loves ! would  I had  died 
before  thee ! 

O,  to  be  at  least  a cloud,  that  near  thee  I might  flow, 
Solemnly  approach  the  mountain,  weep  away  my 
being  o’er  thee, 

And  veil  thy  breast  with  icicles,  and  thy  brow  with 
snow ! 

Requiescat  in  Pace . 


184 


August  25 


August  26 


August  27 


August  28 


When  some  affections  which  we  would  almost  give 
our  lives  to  keep  warm  and  fresh  grow  cold  in  spite 
of  cherishing,  what  a perversity  of  nature  it  seems 
that  others  can  thrive,  and  live,  and  even  grow, 
when  they  have  nothing  to  feed  upon,  and  every  rea- 
son to  fade  and  die ! 

• Off  the  Skelligs . 

- — — - August  2Q  — — — — — 

0 ye  good  women,  it  is  hard  to  leave 
The  paths  of  virtue,  and  return  again. 

What  if  this  sinner  wept,  and  none  of  you 
Comforted  her?  But  I beseech 

Your  patience.  Once  in  old  Jerusalem 
A woman  kneeled  at  consecrated  feet, 

Kissed  them,  and  washed  them  with  her  tears. 

What  then  ? 

1 think  that  yet  our  Lord  is  pitiful : 

I think  I see  the  castaway  e’en  now  ! 

Brothers  and  a Sermon. 

AugliSt  3O  — * — - ; 


In  general,  the  woman  bears  the  small  misfortunes 
and  continued  disappointments  of  life  best,  and  the 
man  bears  best  the  great  ones. 

Don  John. 


1 86 


August  2<S 


- August  29 


— — August  30 


187 


August  31 


“ I do  not  wish  to  marry  a woman  who  takes  such 
a deep  and  sincere  interest  in  herself.” 

“ Why,  don’t  we  all  do  that?  I am  sure  / do.” 

“ You  naturally  feel  that  you  are  the  most  impor- 
tant and  interesting  of  all  God’s  creatures  to  yourself. 
You  do  not  therefore  think  that  you  must  be  so 
to  me” 


Fated  to  be  Free. 


August  31 


Ik  LIBRARY 
OF  THE 

WI5VERSITY  Of  ILUMP 


\ 


* 


September. 


On  a lonely  sea-coast,  at  some  distance  from  any 
houses,  a lady  was  wandering  at  the  turn  of  the  tide, 
and  watching  somewhat  sadly  the  shadows  of  the 
clouds  as  they  passed  over  and  changed  the  colors 
of  the  tranquil  sea. 

It  was  a clear  morning  in  the  beginning  of  Sep- 
tember, and  she  had  walked  more  than  three  miles 
from  her  lodgings  in  the  nearest  village.  The  first 
two  miles  had  been  under  high  rocky  cliffs,  from 
which  tangled  bugloss,  thrift,  and  sea-lavender  hung, 
and  long  trailing  fern-leaves  peeped,  and  offered 
somewhat  to  hold  for  the  hand  of  the  adventurous 
climber.  The  shore  under  these  cliffs  was  rugged 
with  rocks  which  stood  out  from  the  soft  sand,  and 
were  covered  with  limpets  ; the  water  washing  among 
them  made  a peculiar  singing  noise,  quite  different 
to  the  deep  murmur  with  which  it  recedes  from  a 
more  level  shore.  She  listened  to  this  cheery  sing- 
ing, as  the  crisp  little  waves  shook  the  pebbles,  play- 
ing with  them,  lifting  them  up  and  tossing  them 
together;  and  she  listened  to  the  sheep  bells,  and 
watched  with  wonder  how  the  adventurous  lambs 
found  food  and  footing  on  the  slippery  heights  of 
the  cliffs. 

Pool'  Matt , or  The  Clouded  Intellect. 


191 


September  i 


Let  the  people,  O Queen  I say,  and  bless  thee, 
Her  bounty  drops  soft  as  the  dew, 

And  spotless  in  honor  confess  thee, 

As  lilies  are  spotless  in  hue. 

Mopsa  the  Fairy. 


September  2 


“ Some  folks  forget,”  continued  Mr.  Swan,  “ that 
transplanted  trees  won’t  grow  the  first  year,  and 
others  want  too  much  for  their  money,  and  too  good 
of  its  kind ; but  fair  and  softly,  thinks  I ; you  can’t 
buy  five  shillings  with  threepence-halfpenny  in  any 
shop  that  I ever  heerd  of ; and  when  you ’ve  earned 
half-a-crown  you  can’t  be  paid  it  in  gold.” 

Fated  to  be  Free . 


September  3 


Poetical  justice  is  not  the  kind  of  justice  that  gen- 
erally comes  about  in  the  order  of  God’s  providence. 
We  ought  not  to  expect  such;  and  woful,  indeed, 
must  be  the  disappointment  of  those  who  do  kind 
actions  in  the  hope  of  receiving  it. 

The  Wild-Duck  Shooter. 


192 


September  j 


September  2 


September  3 


September  4 

If  to  reflect  a light  that  is  divine 

Makes  that  which  doth  reflect  it  better  seen, 
And  if  to  see  is  to  contemn  the  shrine, 

’T  were  surely  better  it  had  never  been  : 

It  had  been  better  for  her  not  to  shine, 

And  for  me  not  to  sing.  Better,  I ween, 

For  us  to  yield  no  more  that  radiance  bright, 
For  them,  to  lack  the  light  than  scorn  the  light. 

The  Star's  Monument. 

— ’ September  5 


Like  a shaft  of  light  her  voice  breaks  forth, 
My  soul  to  meet  it  springs 
As  the  shining  water  leaped  of  old, 

When  stirred  by  angel  wings. 

The  Long  White  Seam . 


September  6 


If  maids  be  shy,  he  cures  who  can  ; 

But  if  a man  be  shy  — a man  — 

Why  then  the  worse  for  him ! 

Supper  at  the  Mill. 


194 


September  4 


September  5 


September  6 


September  7 


Time  is  a healer  of  sick  hearts, 

And  women  have  been  known  to  choose, 
With  purpose  to  allay  their  smarts, 

And  tend  their  bruise, 

These  for  themselves.  Content  to  give, 

In  their  own  lavish  love  complete, 

Taking  for  sole  prerogative 

Their  tendance  sweet. 

The  Letter  L. 


September  8 


I like  to  do  kindness  spontaneously;  but  to  have 
it  represented  that  I ought  to  do  it,  takes  away  all 
the  pleasure  of  it ; makes  it  something  that  one  is 
to  be  blamed  for  if  one  does  not  perform,  but  not  to 
be  praised  for  if  one  does  ! 

The  Stolen  Treasure. 


— — September  9 

Like  coral  insects  multitudinous 

The  minutes  are  whereof  our  life  is  made. 

They  build  it  up  as  in  the  deep’s  blue  shade 
It  grows,  it  comes  to  light,  and  then,  and  thus 
For  both  there  is  an  end.  The  populous 

Sea-blossoms  close,  our  minutes  that  have  paid 
Life’s  debt  of  work  are  spent ; the  work  is  laid 
Before  our  feet  that  shall  come  after  us. 

Work. 


196 


September  7 


September  8 


September  Q 


September  io 


Why  should  we  be  so  fond  of  saying,  “ Impossi- 
ble 1 ” “ Incredible  ! ” “ Improbable  ? ” These  are 
three  empty  words,  yet  how  many  a fine  story  have 
they  marred ! 

Stories  Told  to  a Child . 


September  1 1 


It  is  a fine  thing  to  have  it  in  our  power  to  enrich 
a life  — to  give  enough  and  all  that  was  lacking. 
But  some  people  are  a long  time  before  they  can 
believe  that  is  their  case ; and  when  at  last  they 
have  learned  to  believe  it,  I have  known  some  that 
spent  so  long  thinking  about  it,  that  all  the  grace  of 
the  gift,  — indeed  the  opportunity  of  making  it,  alto- 
gether went  by. 

Off  the^  SkelligsC 

— - September  1 2 — 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  it  is  the  fools,  and 
not  the  wise,  who  govern  the  world.  While  the 
wise  are  considering,  the  fools  act ; while  the  wise 
investigate,  the  fools  have  made  up  their  minds ; by 
the  time  the  wise  have  discovered,  the  fools  have 
made  arrangements,  and  the  wise,  for  the  sake  of 
law  and  order,  or  if  not,  for  the  sake  of  peace  and 
quietness,  are  obliged  to  give  way. 

Sarah  De  Berenger. 


1 98 


September  io 


September  1 1 


September  1 2 


September  13 


For,  oh  ! she  has  a sweet  tongue. 

And  een  that  look  down, 

She  has  a good  word  forbye 
Fra  a’  folk  in  the  town. 

Mopsa  the  Fairy . 


September  14 


What  have  you  done,  I should  like  to  know  ? And 
what  are  you,  and  what  have  you  been,  that  is  better 
worth  recording  than  the  sayings  and  doings  recorded 
here?  You  think  yourself  superior?  Well,  you 
may  be , certainly,  and  to  reflect  thafr  you  are , is  a 
comfortable  thing  for  yourself  ! 

Stories  Told  to  a Child. 

September  1 5 — — — — 

To  hear,  to  heed,  to  wed, 

Fair  lot  that  maidens  choose, 

Thy  mother’s  tenderest  words  are  said, 

Thy  face  no  more  she  views ; 

Thy  mother’s  lot,  my  dear, 

She  doth  in  nought  accuse  ; 

Her  lot  to  bear,  to  nurse,  to  rear, 

To  love  — and  then  to  lose. 

Songs  of  Seven . 


200 


September  13 


September  14 


September  1 5 


September  16 


Would  I,  to  save  my  dear  child  dutiful, 

Dare  the  white  breakers  on  a storm-rent  shore  ? 
Ay,  truly,  Thou  all  good,  all  beautiful, 

Truly  I would,  — then  truly  Thou  would’st  more. 

Poems . 


September  1 7 — 

The  soul  does  not  always  recognize  itself  as  a 
guest  seated  within  this  frame  ; sometimes  it  appears 
to  escape  and  look  at  the  human  life  it  has  led,  as 
if  from  without.  It  seems  to  become  absorbed  into 
the  august  stream  of  being ; to  see  that  fragment 
itself  without  self-love,  and  as  the  great  all  of  man- 
kind would  regard  it  if  laid  open  to  them. 

It  perceives  the  inevitable  verdict.  Thus  and  thus 
have  I done.  They  will  judge  me  rightly,  that  thus 
and  thus  I am. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 

- — ■ — — September  1 8 — 


Many  people  show  us  our  deficiencies  by  the  light 
of  their  own  advantages,  but  Donald  Johnstone’s 
wife  showed  rather  how  insignificant  those  deficien- 
cies must  be  since  she  who  was  so  complete  had 
never  noticed  them. 

Don  John. 


202 


September  16 


September  17 


September  18 


September  19- 


“ The  fulness  of  Him,”  he  said,  “ that  filleth  all 
*n  a^‘  Fated  to  be  Free. 

Note.  — Miss  Ingelow,  under  the  impression  that  President 
Garfield  was  convalescent,  desired  to  send  him  a token  of  her 
sympathy.  It  was  received  by  Mrs.  Garfield  after  his  death, 
and  in  acknowledging  it  she  said  : “The  last  book  I read  during 
the  last  days  of  the  President’s  illness  was  her  (Miss  Ingelow’s) 
‘ Fated  to  be  Free  * I read  it  to  occupy  the  hours  when  I was 
not  sitting  beside  him,  lest  my  own  thoughts  should  overcome  my 
hope  ; and  I laid  the  book  down  finished  only  a few  hours  before 
his  spirit  passed  away.  It  startled  me  with  a fear  that  the  clos- 
ing scene  might  be  a prophecy.  Alas  ! alas  ! ” 


September  20 


A straight  stick  may  shame  a crooked  one  that 
never  knew  how  crooked  it  was  till  the  other  was 
laid  beside  it. 

A Sister's  Bye-Hours. 


September  2t 


We  know  they  music  made 
In  heaven,  ere  man’s  creation  ; 

But  when  God  threw  it  down  to  us  that  strayed, 
It  dropt  with  lamentation, 

And  ever  since  doth  its  sweetness  shade 
With  sighs  for  its  first  station. 

A Cottage  in  a Chine. 


204 


September  19 

PRES.  GARFIELD  DIED. 


September  20 


ST.  MATTHEW. 


September  2 1 


September  22 


People  who  are  destined  to  get  the  command  over 
others  often  surprise  one  by  having  the  last  style  of 
manners  that  one  could  expect.  They  are  not  in 
the  least  alike  either,  as  I have  had  opportunity  of 
judging. 

Off  the  Skelligs. 


September  23 


If  God  gives  me  work  to  do,  I will  thank  him  that 
he  has  bestowed  on  me  a strong  arm ; if  he  gives 
me  danger  to  brave,  I will  bless  him  that  he  has  not 
made  me  without  courage  ; but  I will  go  down  on 
my  knees  and  beseech  him  humbly  to  make  me  fit 
for  my  task,  if  he  tells  me  it  is  only  to  stand  and 
wait. 

Marked. 

September  24 


Regret  and  faith  alike  exclaim  ; 

There  was  a loss,  there  comes  a gain  ; 

We  stand  at  fault  betwixt  the  twain, 

And  that  is  veiled  for  which  we  pant. 

Scholar  and  Carpenter. 


206 


207 


September  2 5 — 

When  the  poplar  leaves  atremble 
Turn  their  edges  to  the  light, 

And  the  far*up  clouds  resemble 

Veils  of  gauze  most  clear  and  white  ; 

Though  the  heart  be  not  attending, 

Having  music  of  her  own, 

On  the  grass,  through  meadows  wending, 

It  is  sweet  to  walk  alone. 

Afternoon  at  a Parson-age. 

September  26  — — — — 

All  nature  seemed  to  smile  on  her  sweetness. 
She  reminded  him,  in  that  secluded  spot,  of  a fair 
lily  shaded  by  its  own  green  leaf.  She  was  every- 
where. The  young  growing  things  about  him  were 
lovely,  for  they  were  like  her.  The  old  steadfast 
trees  were  interesting,  as  in  contrast  to  her.  The 
very  donkey  was  interesting,  because  she  often  tried 
in  vain  to  make  him  go. 

Sarah  De  Berenger. 

September  27 — - 

There  are  buds  that  fold  within  them, 

Closed  and  covered  from  our  sight, 

Many  a richly  tinted  petal, 

Never  looked  on  by  the  light: 

Fain  to  see  their  shrouded  faces, 

Sun  and  dew  are  long  at  strife, 

Till  at  length  the  swreet  buds  open  — 

Such  a bud  is  life. 

A Mother  Showing  the  Portrait  of  her  Child. 


208 


September  25 


September  26 


September  27 


September  28 


The  rich  and  the  free  have  a choice,  they  often 
choose  amiss.  Yet  no  choice  can  (excepting  for 
this  world)  be  irretrievable  ; and  that  same  being  for 

I whom  the  great  life  of  the  world  proved  too  much, 
learns  often,  in  the  loss  of  everything,  what  his  ut- 
most gain  was  not  ordained  to  teach. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


September  29 


We  dwell  as  at  creation’s  brink, 

Yet  saved,  and  safe  from  thrall  ; 

We  think,  if  we  may  dare  to  think, 

Thou  givest  all  to  all. 

Poems . 


— — — September  30 

When  she  came 

Before  him  first,  he  looked  at  her,  and  looked 
No  more,  but  colored  to  his  healthful  brow, 

And  wished  himself  a better  man,  and  thought 
On  certain  things,  and  wished  they  were  undone, 
Because  her  girlish  innocence,  the  grace 
Of  her  umblemished  pureness,  wrought  in  him 
A longing  and  aspiring,  and  a shame 
To  think  how  wicked  was  the  world. 

Laurance* 


210 


Qf  1H£ 

BWVERS1TY  Of  1U.WW* 


. 


' 


Orf  oOcr 


The  green  common  was  basking  in  the  mild  yellow 
sunshine  of  a fine  autumnal  clay,  every  little  eleva- 
tion was  covered  with  heather,  gorse,  and  foxglove 
flowers ; the  young  larks  hidden  under  the  ferns  were 
chirping  softly,  the  sky  was  serene,  and  all  the  wide- 
open  world  seemed  drinking  the  sunshine. 

Off  the  Skelligs . 

Yellow  leaves,  how  fast  they  flutter  — woodland 
hollows  thickly  strewing, 

Where  the  wan  October  sunbeams  scantly  in  the 
mid-day  win, 

While  the  dim  gray  clouds  are  drifting,  and  in  sad- 
dened hues  imbuing 

All  without  and  all  within  ! 

Poems  on  the  Death  of  three  Children. 


213 


October  I 


“ Take  courage,”  quoth  he,  “ and  respect  the  mind 
Y our  Maker  gave,  for  good  your  fate  fulfil ; 

The  fate  round  many  hearts  your  own  to  wind.” 
Twin  soul,  I will ! I will ! 

Honors . 


October  2 


Let  my  work  be  alway  done 
As  to  Thee,  and  when  the  sun 
Sets  and  all  Thy  stars  appear, 

Still  acquaint  me  I am  dear. 

Poems. 


October  3 


If  ever  I took  to  writing  fiction  I should  not  pre- 
tend to  know  all  about  my  characters.  The  author’s 
world  appears  small  if  he  makes  it  manifest  that  he 
reigns  there.  I don’t  understand  myself  thoroughly. 
How  can  I understand  so  many  other  pe.ople  ? 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


214 


October  i 


October  2 


October  3 


October  4 


There  standing  with  my  very  goal  in  sight, 
Over  my  haste  did  sudden  quiet  steal ; 

I thought  to  dally  with  my  own  delight, 

Nor  rush  on  headlong  to  my  garnered  weal, 
But  taste  the  sweetness  of  a short  delay, 

And  for  a little  moment  hold  the  bliss  at  bay. 

The  Four  Bridges. 

October  5 


For  she  was  purer  than  a driven  flake 
Of  snow,  and  in  her  grace  most  excellent ; 
The  loveliest  life  that  death  did  ever  mar, 

As  beautiful  to  gaze  on  as  a star. 

The  Star's  Monument. 


October  6 


The  yellow  poplar-leaves  came  down 
And  like  a carpet  lay, 

No  waftings  were  in  the  sunny  air 
To  flutter  them  away ; 

And  he  stepped  on  blithe  and  debonair 
That  warm  October  day. 

Strife  and  Peace. 


216 


October  4 


October  5 


October  6 


October  7 


She  had  the  disadvantage  of  being  very  short- 
sighted, and  so  missed 'the  flashing  messages  and 
secret  communications  that  passed  between  other 
eyes.  This  defect  makes  many  people  more  intel- 
lectual than  they  otherwise  would  be,  and  less  in- 
telligent, throwing  them  more  on  thought  and  less 
on  observation. 

Don  John. 

October  8 


Sweet  is  childhood  — childhood  ’s  over, 
Kiss  and  part. 

Sweet  is  youth  — but  youth ’s  a rover  — 

So  ’s  my  heart. 

Sweet  is  rest ; but  by  all  showing 
Toil  is  nigh. 

We  must  go.  Alas  ! the  going, 

Say  “ Good-bye.” 

Mopsct  the  Fairy . 

October  9 


Oh,  what  a curious  place  the  world  is,  and  what  a 
number  of  things  are  found  out  afresh  in  it!  What 
faded  old  facts  stand  forth  in  startling  colors,  as 
wonderful  and  new,  when  youthful  genius  gets  a 
chance  of  sitting  still  while  it  passes,  and  making 
unnoticed  studies  of  it. 

Sa^ah  De  Berenger . 


218 


October  7 


October  8 


October  9 


October  to 


Not  with  possession,  not 
With  fairest  earthly  lot, 

Cometh  the  peace  assured,  his  spirit’s  quest ; 

With  much  it  looks  before, 

With  most  it  yearns  for  more 4 
And  ‘ this  is  not  our  rest,’  and  ‘ this  is  not  our  rest.’ 

Poems. 

— October  1 1 


Some  people  want  the  poetic  faculty ; they  have 
not  discovered  how  to  match  a sensation  with  a 
sound,  and  translate  their  souls  into  other  people’s 
ears  with  an  A flat  and  a B natural,  — as  the  hooting 
owl  does  her  yearning  after  young  mice  for  supper. 

Off  the  Skelligs. 


October  1 2 


Oh,  my  child-God  most  gentle  King, 

To  me  Thy  waxing  glory  show ; 

Wake  in  my  heart  as  wakes  the  spring, 

Grow  as  the  leaf  .and  lily  grow. 

Poems. 


220 


October  10 


October  1 1 


October  1 2 


October  13 


“Yellow  leaves,  yellow  leaves, 

Whither  away  ? 

Through  the  long  wood  paths 
How  fast  do  ye  stray  1 ” 

“ We  go  to  lie  down 

Where  the  spring  snowdrops  grow, 
Their  young  roots  to  cherish 

Through  frost  and  through  snow.” 

• Stories  Told  to  a Child, 

October  14  


For  hearts  where  wakened  love  doth  lurk, 
How  fine,  how  blest  a thing  is  work ! 

For  work  does  good  when  reasons  fail. 

Reflections, 


— October  1 5 — 


Should  I change  my  allegiance  for  rancor 
If  fortune  changes  her  side  ? 

Or  should  I,  like  a vessel  at  anchor, 

Turn  with  the  turn  of  the  tide  ? 

Lift ! O lift,  thou  lowering  sky ; 

An  thou  wilt,  thy  gloom  forego  1 
An  thou  wilt  not,  he  and  I 
Need  not  part  for  drifts  of  snow. 

Latirance. 


222 


October  13 


October  14 


October  15 


October  1 6 


. 


Hence  we  may  learn , 
That  though  it  be  a grand  and  comely  thing 
To  be  unhappy,  — (and  we  think  it  is, 

Because  so  many  grand  and  clever  folk 
Have  found  out  reasons  for  unhappiness), 

. . . . yet,  since  we  are  not  grand, 

O,  not  at  all,  and  as  for  cleverness, 

That  may  be  or  may  not  be,  — it  is  well 
For  us  to  be  as  happy  as  we  can ! 

Gladys  and  her  Island. 

— October  V]  — 


She  had  a gracious  insight  into  the  feelings  of 
others,  and  used  it  not  to  show  off  her  own  beauties, 
but  to  console  them  for  defects  in  themselves. 

Don  John. 


October  18 


Like  a great  river  Thy  love  flows, 

Let  not  it  run  to  waste, 

I ’ll  dip  my  hand,  so  near  it  goes, 

Sure  I thereof  may  taste. 

Poems. 


224 


October  16 


October  17 


October  18 

ST.  LUKE . 


22; 


October  19 

Family  likeness  is  always  strongest  among  the 
uncultivated,  and  among  lethargic  and  stupid  people; 
and  it  is  the  same  with  nations,  those  who  have 
little  energy  and  no  keen  desire  for  knowledge  are 
ten  times  more  alike  in  feature,  complexion,  and 
countenance  than  we  are.  No ! family  likeness  is 
all  very  well  in  infancy,  before  the  mind  has  begun 
to  work  on  the  face ; but  as  a man’s  children  grow, 
they  ought  to  be  less  and  less  alike  every  year. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 

— October  20 

My  soul  admires  to  hear  thee  speak ; thy  thought 
Falls  from  a high  place  like  an  August  star, 

Or  some  great  eagle  from  his  air-hung  rings  — 

When  swooping  past  a snow-cold  mountain  scar  — 
Down  the  steep  slope  of  a long  sunbeam  brought, 

He  stirs  the  wheat  with  the  steerage  of  his  wings. 

Sonnet. 

October  2 1 — 

When  I reflect  how  little  I have  done, 

And  add  to  that  how  little  I have  seen, 

Then  furthermore  how  little  I have  won 
Of  joy,  or  good,  how  little  known,  or  been : 

I long  for  other  life  more  full,  more  keen, 

And  yearn  to  change  with  such  as  well  have  run  — ■ 

Yet  reason  mocks  me  — nay,  the  soul,  I ween, 

Granted  her  choice  would  dare  to  change  with  none. 

Wishing. 


226 


October  19 


October  20 


October  2 1 


October  22 


He  taught  them,  and  they  learned,  but  not  the  less 
Remained  unconscious  whence  that  lore  they  drew, 
But  dreamed  that  of  their  native  nobleness 

Some  lofty  thoughts,  that  he  had  planted,  grew ; 
His  glorious  maxims  in  a lowly  dress 

Like  seed  sown  broadcast  sprung  in  all  men’s  view, 
The  sower,  passing  onward,  was  not  known, 

And  all  men  reaped  the  harvest  as  their  own. 

The  Star's  Monument. 

- — — — October  23 

She  spoke,  and  lo,  her  loveliness 
Methought  she  damaged  with  her  tongue  ; 
And  every  sentence  made  it  less, 

So  false  they  rung. 

The  rallying  voice,  the  light  demand, 

Half  flippant,  half  unsatisfied  ; 

The  vanity  sincere  and  bland  — 

The  answers  wide. 

The  Letter  L. 

October  24 


People  say  of  Eastern  nations,  that  those  who 
would  hold  sway  over  them  must  needs  make  them- 
selves feared,  and  they  do  not  enough  consider  that 
this  is  almost  as  true  at  their  own  doors  as  it  is  at 
the  ends  of  the  earth. 

Sarah  De  Berenger. 


228 


October  22 


October  23 


October  24 


October  25 — 

What  if  mind  and  thought  decayed, 
Old,  I lose  Thee  from  my  ken, 

Thou  chiefest  of  the  sons  of  men, 
And  Thy  worth  from  memory  fade ; 
Oh  ! most  loving  Lord,  what  then  ? 

Nay,  but  Thou  wilt  not  forget ; 

In  Thy  memory  lives  my  boast ; 

On  the  everlasting  coast 
Thou  wilt  meet  and  own  me  yet, 

To  the  end  and  uttermost. 


October  26 


Poems . 


Be  glad,  and  say  “ This  beauty  is  for  me  — 

A thing  to  love  and  learn. 

“ For  me  the  bounding  in  of  tides  ; for  me 
The  laying  bare  of  sands  when  they  retreat ; 
The  purple  flush  of  calms,  the  sparkling  glee 
When  waves  and  sunshine  meet.” 

Honors . 


October  27 


“ Hold,  heart ! ” I cried  ; “ for  trouble  sleeps  ; 

I hear  no  sound  of  aught  that  weeps ; 

I will  not  look  into  thy  deeps  — 

I am  afraid,  I am  afraid ! ” 

“ Afraid  1 ” she  saith  ; “ and  yet ’t  is  true 
That  what  man  dreads  he  still  should  view  — 
Should  do  the  thing  he  fears  to  do, 

And  storm  the  ghosts  in  ambuscade.” 

Scholar  and  Carpenter . 


230 


October  25 


October  26 


- October  27 


231 


October  2 8 


This  is  a woman-ridden  age.  Yet,  it  is  but  fair 
to  confess  that  all  the  former  ones  were  man-ridden 
ages.  What  we  want  is  a happy  proportion. 

Off  the  Skelligs. 


October  2 9 


He  was  crammed  full  of  human  nature.  He  was 
full  of  us  and  the  place  we  live  in.  We  take  a 
beautiful  pathetic  pleasure  in  reading  him,  because 
we  like  that  a man  who  knew  us  so  well  should  love 
us  so  well. 

Don  John . 


October  30 

What  wonder  man  should  fail  to  stay 
A nursling  wafted  from  above, 

The  growth  celestial  come  astray, 

That  tender  growth  whose  name  is  Love  1 

It  is  as  if  high  winds  in  heaven 
Had  shaken  the  celestial  trees, 

And  to  this  earth  below  had  given 

Some  feathered  seeds  from  one  of  these. 

Afternoon  at  a Parsonage. 


232 


October  28 

ST.  SIMON  & ST.  JUDE. 


October  29 


October  30 


233 


October  3 1 


O to  set  my  life,  sweet  bird, 

To  a tune  that  oft  I heard 
When  I used  to  stand  alone 
Listening  to  the  lovely  moan 
Of  the  swaying  pines  o’erhead, 

While,  a-gathering  of  bee-bread 
For  their  living,  murmured  round, 

As  the  pollen  dropped  to  ground, 

All  the  nations  from  the  hives. 

Songs  on  the  Voices  of  Birds. 


234 


236 


Ik.  LISBAHY 
iif  M 

WIYERSIT*  0F  ILUM0R* 


* 


I^obember 


The  sweet  warm  days  of  October  gave  way  to  a 
succession  of  raw  boisterous  weather,  when  the  foam 
from  the  rough  troubled  sea  was  blown  into  the 
cottage  door,  and  when  the  gusty  winds  shook  the 
frail  little  tenement.  Black  clouds  gathered  over 
the  ocean,  which,  except  where  a line  of  froth  marked 
its  breaking  on  the  beach,  was  almost  as  black  as 
themselves. 

Poor  Matty  or , The  Clouded  Intellect. 

The  last  house  before  you  come  to  the  open  heath 
is  a gray,  cheerless  looking  place  in  winter,  though 
in  summer  it  looks  pleasant  and  gay,  for  it  is  nearly 
covered  with  china  roses. 

There  are  a good  many  trees  in  the  front  garden, 
and  some  thick  laurestinus  shrubs.  On  one  side  of 
the  porch  is  the  kitchen  casement ; on  the  other  side 
the  parlor  windows.  All  through  the  summer,  rose- 
leaves  drift  in  whenever  these  are  open,  and,  even 
as  late  as  November,  rosebuds  tap  against  the  glass 
whenever  the  blustering  gale  comes  round  from  the 
heath,  as  if  appealing  to  the  inmates  to  take  them  in 
and  shelter  them  from  the  wind  and  the  rain. 

Little  Rie  and  The  Rosebuds. 


*37 


November  i 


If  a man  is  reasonable  and  sees  things  as  they 
were,  he  does  not  often  fix  on  some  particular  act 
for  which  to  blame  himself  when  he  deplores  the 
past,  for  at  times  of  clear  vision  the  soul  escapes 
from  the  bondage  of  incident.  There  is  a common 
thought  that  beggars  sympathy  in  almost  every  shal- 
low mind.  It  seldom  finds  deliberate  expression. 
Perhaps  it  may  be  stated  thus : — 

The  greatness  of  the  good  derived  from  it,  makes 
the  greatness  of  the  fault. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 

- — November  2 — - — — 


I am  but  free,  as  sorrow  is, 

To  dry  her  tears,  to  laugh,  to  talk ; 

And  free,  as  sick  men  are,  I wis, 

To  rise  and  walk. 

And  free,  as  poor  men  are,  to  buy 

If  they  have  nought  wherewith  to  pay ; 
Nor  hope,  the  debt  before  they  die, 

To  wipe  away. 

The  Letter  L. 

~ — v November  3 


I will  not  speak  — I will  not  speak  to  thee, 

My  star ! and  soon  to  be  my  lost,  lost  star. 

The  sweetest,  first,  that  ever  shone  on  me, 

So  high  above  me  and  beyond  so  far ; 

I can  forego  thee,  but  not  bear  to  see 
My  love,  like  rising  mist,  thy  lustre  mar  : 

That  were  a base  return  for  thy  sweet  light. 

Shine,  though  I never  more  shall  see  that  thou  art 
bright. 

The  Star's  Monument. 


November  i 


November  2 


November  3 


November  4 


Space  is  against  thee  — it  can  part ; 

Time  is  against  thee  — it  can  chill ; 

Words  — they  but  render  half  the  heart ; 
Deeds  — they  are  poor  to  our  rich  will. 

A fternoon  at  a Parsonage. 


November  5 — 

Miss  Jenny  ended  her  account  by  saying,  “ She ’s 
gone  where  there ’s  no  more  sorrow  — nor  laughing 
neither.” 

And  Charlotte  said,  “ Oh,  Miss  Jenny,  I hope  not, 
I think  we  shall  often  laugh  in  heaven.  Don’t  you 
think  that  at  least  angels  can  laugh  ? ” 

“ There  can  be  no  laughing  in  heaven  or  among 
heavenly  creatures  that  has  malice  in  it  — but  many 
things  are  witty  and  droll  without  that.” 

Don  John . 

— — - November  6 — — — 


And  time,  that  seemed  so  long,  is  fleeting  by, 

And  life  is  more  than  life ; love  more  than  love ; 
We  have  not  found  the  whole  — and  we  must  die  — 
And  still  the  unclasped  glory  floats  above. 

The  inmost  and  the  utmost  faint  from  sight, 

For  ever  secret  in  their  veil  of  light. 

Alargaret  in  the  Zebec . 


240 


November  4 


November  5 


November  6 


241 


November  7 


Great  Elder  Brother,  deeply  dear, 

Thy  perfect  love  doth  cast  out  fear ; 

Thy  goodness  long  my  theme  shall  be. 

I wait  becalmed,  and  draw  my  breath, 

At  home  with  pain,  at  one  with  death, 

I11  league  with  God  because  of  Thee.” 

Poems. 


November  8 


A bad  rhyme,  like  a bad  egg,  is  aye  conspeecuous. 
You  may  beat  up  a dozen  eggs  in  the  cake,  but  if 
only  one  of  them  bad  it  spoils  all. 

Off  the  Skelligs. 


November  9 


But  reason  thus  : “ If  we  sank  low, 

If  the  lost  garden  we  forego, 

Each  in  his  day,  nor  ever  know 
But  in  our  poet  souls  its  face  ; 

Yet  we  may  rise  until  we  reach 
A height  untold  of  in  its  speech. 

Scholar  a7id  Carpenter. 


242 


November  7 


November  8 


November  9 


November  10 


One  launched  a ship,  but  she  was  wrecked  at  sea ; 

He  built  a bridge,  but  floods  have  borne  it  down  ; 
He  meant  much  good,  none  came  : strange  destiny, 
His  corn  lies  sunk,  his  bridge  bears  none  to  town, 
Yet  good  he  had  not  meant  became  his  crown; 

For  once  at  work,  when  even  as  nature,  free 
From  thought  of  good  he  was,  or  of  renown, 

God  took  the  work  for  good  and  let  good  be. 

Compensation. 

November  1 1 — 

Does  it  really  matter  nothing  to  the  possessors 
whether  their  rank  and  standing  came  first  as  a mark 
of  grace  or  of  disgrace  ? Apparently  not.  And  these 
sons  and  these  cousins,  who  have  inherited  a great 
name  in  science  or  in  literature  ? The  dear  progeni- 
tor sits,  as  it  were,  like  an  Egyptian  of  old,  at  all 
their  feasts.  Strange  that,  because  he  was  so  wise, 
they  should  think  he  must  ram  a hole  for  them  to 
enter,  and  show  themselves  fools  where  they  please. 

Sarah  De  Berenger. 

November  12  — 


Rueing,  I think  for  what  then  was  I made  ; 

What  end  appointed  for  — what  use  designed? 
Now  let  me  right  this  heart  that  was  bewrayed  — 
Unveil  these  eyes  gone  blind. 

Honors. 


244 


November  10 


r 


November  1 1 


November  12 


November  13 


“ For,”  I said,  “ I have  not  met, 

White  one,  any  folk  as  yet 
f Who  would  send  no  blessing  up, 

Looking  on  a face  like  thine  ; 

For  thou  art  as  Joseph’s  cup, 

And  by  thee  might  they  divine.” 

Contrasted  Songs. 

November  14 


Hence  we  may  learn , if  we  be  so  inclined, 

That  life  goes  best  with  those  who  take  it  best ; 
That  wit  can  spin  from  work  a golden  robe 
To  queen  it  in  ; that  who  can  paint  at  will 
A private  picture  gallery,  should  not  cry 
For  shillings  that  will  let  him  in  to  look 
At  some  by  others  painted. 

Gladys  and  her  Island. 

— — November*  i § — ■ . 


Mystery  in  romance  and  in  tales  is  such  a com- 
mon vulgar  thing,  in  tragedy  and  even  in  comedy  it 
is  so  completely  what  we  demand  and  expect,  that 
we  seldom  consider  what  an  astonishing  and  very 
uncommon  thing  it  is  when  it  appears  in  life. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


246 


November  13 


November  14 


November  1 5 


November  16 


Learn,  that  if  to  thee  the  meaning 
Of  all  other  eyes  be  shown, 

Fewer  eyes  can  ever  front  thee, 

That  are  skilled  to  read  thine  own  ; 

And  that  if  thy  love’s  deep  current 
Many  another’s  far  outflows, 

Then  thy  heart  must  take  forever, 

Less  than  it  bestows. 

A Mother  Showing  the  Portrait  of  her  Child, \ 

- — November  1 7 


How  could  I tell  I should  love  thee  to-day, 
Whom  that  day  I held  not  dear? 

How  could  I know  I should  love  thee  away 
When  I did  not  love  thee  anear  ? 

Supper  at  the  Mill. 


— November  1 8 

Some  people  appear  to  feel  that  they  are  much 
wiser,  much  nearer  to  the  truth  and  to  realities,  than 
they  were  when  they  were  children.  I should  not 
at  all  wonder  if  the  thoughts  of  our  childhood, 
when  we  look  back  on  it  after  the  rending  of  this 
veil  of  our  humanity,  should  prove  less  unlike  what 
we  were  intended  to  derive  from  the  teaching  of 
life,  nature,  and  revelation,  than  the  thoughts  of  our 
more  sophisticated  days. 

Off  the  Skelligs. 


248 


• November  16- 


Nov  ember  17 


November  1 8 


<u,<NOS  . 


November  19 


Lord,  when  I stand  and  gaze 
On  the  night  heavens,  Thy  ways 
Confound  my  thought,  they  are  too  great  for  me ; 
But  wonders,  these  are  none, 

Thou  hast  them  so  outdone 
In  the  great  ways  of  Thy  humility. 

Poems . 


November  20  — - — 

Some  narrow  hearts  there  are 
That  suffer  blight  when  that  they  fed  upon 
As  something  to  complete  their  being  fails, 

And  they  retire  into  their  holds  and  pine, 

And  long  restrained  grow  stern.  But  some  there  are 
That  in  a sacred  want  and  hunger  rise, 

And  draw  the  misery  home  and  live  with  it, 

And  excellent  in  honor  wait,  and  will 

That  somewhat  good  should  yet  be  found  in  it, 

Else  wherefore  were  they  born  ? Laurance. 

— — November  2 1 


Man  dwells  apart,  though  not  alone, 

He  walks  among  his  peers  unread ; 

The  best  of  thoughts  which  he  hath  known, 
For  lack  of  listeners  -are  not  said. 

Afternoon  at  a Parsonage . 


250 


November  19 


November  20 


November  2 1 


251 


Nov  ember  22 


Grand  is  the  leisure  of  the  earth  ; 

She  gives  her  happy  myriads  birth, 

And  after  harvest  fears  not  dearth, 

But  goes  to  sleep  in  snow-wreaths  dim. 

Dread  is  the  leisure  up  above 

The  while  He  sits  whose  name  is  Love, 

And  waits,  as  Noah  did,  for  the  dove, 

To  wit  if  she  would  fly  to  him. 

Scholar  and  Carpenter. 

November  23 

Thou  giv’st  to  men  the  fruitful  land, 

And  harvests  from  the  deep  ; 

By  day  Thou  giv’st  with  bounteous  hand, 

By  night  Thou  giv’st  in  sleep. 

Thou  giv’st  the  wakening  of  the  spring, 

In  autumn  sheaves  to  live  ; 

We  give  but  thanks,  our  God,  O King, 
Nought  else  we  have  to  give. 

Poems . 

November  24 


My  heart,  like  the  world  about  me,  came  forth  to 
meet  the  sunshine,  and  thawed  after  its  long  winter. 

Marked. 


252 


November  22 


i 

ft 

4 November  23 


November  24 


253 


November  25 

She  was  not  one  of  those  poets  who  write  verses 
— very  few  are ; none  but  such  as  are  poets  through 
and  through  should  ever  do  that.  Verse  is  only 
words,  the  garment  that  makes  the  spirit  of  poetry 
visible  to  others ; and  poets  who  have  but  little  of 
the  spirit  often  fritter  that  little  away  in  the  effort  to 
have  it  seen.  But  she  was  a poet  in  this,  that  the 
elemental  passions  of  our  nature  were  strong  in  her, 
and  she  bowed  to  them  with  childlike  singleness  of 
soul.  Sarah  De  Berenger . 

— November  26 — — 

He  looks  on  God’s  eternal  suns 
That  sprinkle  the  celestial  blue, 

And  saith,  “ Ah ! happy  shining  ones, 

I would  that  men  were  grouped  like  you  ! ” 

'Yet  this  is  sure,  the  loveliest  star 
That  clustered  with  its  peers  we  see, 

Only  because  from  us  so  far 

Doth  near  its  fellows  seem  to  be. 

Honors . 

November  27 

Fair  world  ! these  puzzled  souls  of  ours  grow  weak 
With  beating  their  bruised  wings  against  the  rim 
That  bounds  their  utmost  flying,  when  they  seek 
The  distant  and  the  dim. 

We  pant,  we  strain  like  birds  against  their  wires ; 

Are  sick  to  reach  the  vast  and  the  beyond ; — 

And  what  avails,  if  still  to  our  desires 
Those  far-off  gulfs  respond  ? 

Poems . 


254 


November  25 


• November  28  • 


And  yet  I wish,  — 

For  sometimes  very  right  and  serious  thoughts 
Come  to  me,  — Ido  wish  that  they  would  come 
When  they  are  wanted  ! — when  I teach  the  sums 
On  rainy  days,  and  when  the  practising 
I count  to,  and  the  din  goes  on  and  on, 

Still  the  same  tune  and  still  the  same  mistake, 
Then  I am  wise  enough  : sometimes  I feel 
Quite  old. 

Gladys  and  her  Island. 

November  29 — 


People  don’t  always  give  love  for  love,  — some 
times  they  give  it  for  nothing. 

Off  the  Skelligs. 


November  30  ■ 


If  quiet  is,  for  it  I wait ; 

To  it,  ah  ! let  me  wed  my  fate, 

And,  like  a sad  wife,  supplicate 
My  roving  lord  no  more  to  flee  ; 

If  leisure  is — but,  ah ! ’t  is  not  — 

’T  is  long  past  praying  for,  God  wot ; 

The  fashion  of  it  men  forgot, 

About  the  age  of  chivalry. 

Scholar  and  Carpenter. 


256 


November  28 


November  29 


November  30 

ST.  ANDREW. 


257 


Tik  llwttiY 

4»f  Ifcfc 

OtHVEHmy  OF  ILLINOIS 


2Dec  ember. 


Call  to  mind  the  coldest  day  you  ever  experienced. 
Think  of  the  bitter  wind  and  driving  snow  ; think 
how  you  shook  and  shivered  — how  the  sharp  white 
particles  were  driven  up  against  your  face  — how, 
within  doors,  the  carpets  were  lifted  like  billows 
along  the  floors,  the  wind  howled  and  moaned  in 
the  chimneys,  windows  creaked,  doors  rattled,  and 
every  now  and  then  heavy  lumps  of  snow  came 
rattling  down  with  a dull  weight  from  the  roof. 

Stories  Told  to  a Child. 


259 


December  i 


Even  a just  punishment  may  become  unjust,  un- 
less it  is  administered  in  the  spirit  of  love. 

Little  Rie  and  the  Rosebuds. 


December  2 


When  the  darker  days  come,  and  no  sun  will  shine, 
Thou  shalt  dry  my  tears,  lass,  and  I ’ll  dry  thine. 

Mopsa  the  Fairy . 


December  3 

“ Watchman,  what  of  the  night  ?” 

“ An  hour  is  struck  on  high, 

But  yet  is  no  streak  of  light 
In  the  solemn,  starless  sky ; 

Dark  nor  the  dayspring  breaketh, 

The  world  is  drowsed  and  dumb  ; 

I sleep,  but  my  heart  waketh  ; 

When  will  the  Bridegroom  come  ? ” 

Poems. 


260 


December  i 


December  2 


December  3 


December  4 


There  was  a seer  who  spake  of  old, 

“ Though  God  be  all  my  stay ; 

Zion,  thy  sons  shall  yet  behold 
A fairer,  sweeter  day. 

In  the  city  of  David  light  shall  spring, 
Judgment  her  gates  shall  bless; 

A Man  shall  be  the  peace  — a King 
Shall  reign  in  righteousness. 

Poems. 

— — — December  5 — — 


One  must  have  a certain  amount  both  of  intelli- 
gence and  knowledge  to  be  amazed  even  at  the 
most  extraordinary  things. 

Off  the  Skelligs. 


~~  December  6 


However  good  we  might  be,  still  we  were  only 
children.  We  actually  felt  ashamed  of  ourselves  in 
her  presence  to  think  that  we  were  children  ! Wex 
knew  we  could  not  help  it,  it  was  an  inevitable  dis- 
pensation, but  she  did  not  appear  to  think  so ; she 
sometimes  had  the  appearance  of  thinking  that  we 
could  help  it  if  we  liked,  and  were  children  on 
purpose. 

The  Grandmother' s Shoe. 


262 


December  4 


December  5 


December  6 


December  J 


You  were  to  me  the  world’s  interpreter, 

The  man  that  taught  me  Nature’s  unknown  tongue, 
And  to  the  notes  of  her  wild  dulcimer 

First  set  sweet  words,  and  sung. 

And  what  am  I to  you  ? A steady  hand 
To  hold,  a steadfast  heart  to  trust  withal ; 

Merely  a man  that  loves  you,  and  will  stand 
By  you,  whate’er  befall. 

Honors . 

December  8 — — - — — 


If  those  who  have  the  most  satisfying  lot  that 
life  can  give  are  to  breathe  freely,  they  must  get 
through,  and  on,  and  out  of  it. 

Not  because  it  is  too  small  for  us,  but  too  great, 
it  bears  so  many  down.  On  the  whole  that  vast 
mass  of  us  which  inherits  its  narrowest  portion, 
tethered,  and  that  on  the  world’s  barest  slope,  does 
best. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


— — — December  q — — — 

She  had  turned  herself  out  of  the  paradise  of  in- 
nocence ; she  had  gathered  the  apple  and  not  tasted 
its  sweetness.  How  was  she  to  know  what  a com- 
mon experience  this  is  ? How  could  she  suppose 
that  the  promised  good  in  evil  was  all  a cheat,  and 
that  she  should  find  nothing  but  bitterness  in  it  from 
the  very  first  ? The  everlasting  lie  had  been  uttered 
to  her  also. 

Don  John . 


264 


December  7 


December  8 


December  9 


December  io 


Court  her,  master,  court  her, 

So  shall  ye  do  weel ; 

But  and  ben  she  ’ll  guide  the  house, 

I ’se  get  milk  and  meal. 

Ye  ’se  get  lilting  while  she  sits 
With  her  rock  and  reel. 

Mopsa  the  Fairy . 

__ — December  1 1 


High  things  to  each  mind  are  the  things  above  it. 
Let  each  put  forth  his  hand  for  those  on  his  own  level. 
It  is  difficult  to  think  of  things  as  high  in  the  ab- 
stract. The  dining-room  table  is  high  to  a black- 
beetle,  but  a camelopard  can  easily  look  in  at  the 
first  floor  windows. 

Sarah  De  Berenger. 


December  12 


O King  David ! King  David  sang  of  old 

Among  the  little  watered  valleys  while  he  watched 
the  fold ; 

Over  rocks  of  wild  En-gedi  when  he  sheathed  the 
sword : 

And  would  we  had  King  David’s  harp,  and  so  could 
praise  the  Lord  1 

Poems. 


266 


December  ro 


December  1 1 


December  12 


December  13 


He  never  scolded  me  for  the  fault  of  the  moment, 
but  inveighed  against  me  in  the  piece , as  a draper 
would  say. 

Stories  Told  to  a Child . 


December  14 

Not  often  does  a man  pass  his  whole  life  before 
him  and  deliberately  criticise  himself,  his  actions 
and  his  way. 

If  he  does,  it  is  seldom  when  he  would  appear  to 
an  outsider  to  have  most  reasonable  occasion ; rath- 
er during  some  pause  when  body  and  mind  both  are 
still. 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


■ December  15 — — — — 

Love  thy  Father,  and  no  more 
His  doings  shall  be  strange.  Thou  shalt  not  fret 
At  any  counsel,  then,  that  He  will  send, — 

No,  nor  rebel,  albeit  He  have  with  thee 
Great  reservations.  Know,  to  Be  is  more 
Than  to  have  acted ; yea,  or  after  rest 
And  patience,  to  have  risen  and  been  wroth, 
Broken  the  sequence  of  an  ordered  earth, 

And  troubled  nations. 

A Story  of  Doom. 


268 


December  13 


December  14 


December  1 5 


269 


December  16- 


Letters,  at  least  the  letters  of  most  people,  are 
unsatisfactory  after  long  absence.  The  mystery 
that  we  want  to  penetrate,  the  soul  that  we  want  to 
reach  with  our  soul,  cannot  unveil  itself  to  us  on  a 
sheet  of  paper,  even  if  it  yearn  to  do  so,  and  is 
willing  to  let  us  know  as  much  as  we  can  under- 
stand. 

Off  the  Skelligs . 

December  17 


The  charity  of  the  rich  is  much  to  be  commended, 
but  how  beautiful  is  the  charity  of  the  poor. 

The  Wild-Duck  Shooter . 


December  18  — — 

Not  warped  by  passion,  awed  by  rumor, 

Not  grave  through  pride,  nor  gay  through  folly, 
An  equal  mixture  of  good  humor, 

And  sensible,  soft  melancholy. 

“ Has  she  no  faults  then,”  Envy  says,  “ Sir  ? ” 

“ Yes,  she  has  one,  I must  aver  ; 

When  all  the  world  conspires  to  praise  her 
The  woman ’s  deaf,  and  does  not  hear.” 

Fated  to  be  Free. 


270 


271 


— — — — December  19 — 

It  was  a happy  thing  to  sit 
So  near,  nor  mar  his  reverie ; 

She  looked  not  for  a part  in  it, 

So  meek  was  she. 

But  it  was  solace  for  her  eyes, 

And  for  her  heart,  that  yearned  to  him, 
To  watch  apart  in  loving  wise 
Those  musings  dim. 

The  Letter  L. 

December  20- 


Of  my  life  she  made  the  story  : 

I must  weep — so  soon  ’twas  told. 

But  your  name  did  lend  it  glory, 

And  youi  love  its  thread  of  gold  ! 

Mopsa  the  Fairy . 


7 December  21 


She  might  perhaps  have  been  called  a twaddler  in 
society,  but  in  her  own  sphere,  she  was  useful  and 
beloved. 

Studies  for  Stories. 


272 


December  19 


December  20  - — ■ — 


ST.  THOMAS. 


December  2 1 


December  22 


Danger  that  ends  in  death  has  a fearful  attractive- 
ness; it  draws  the  island  children  out,  quite  as 
strongly  as  that  which  is  surmounted  and  comes 
safe  home  again. 

Sarah  De  Berenger. 


— — December  23 

A man  tells  a great  lie,  and  saves  his  character  by 
it.  No  wonder  it  weighs  on  his  conscience  ever  after. 
And  yet  perhaps  he  has  told  countless  lies,  both 
before  and  since,  told  them  out  of  mere  carelessness, 
or  from  petty  spite  or  for  small  advantages,  and  ut- 
terly forgotten  them.  Now  which  of  these,  looked 
at  by  the  judge,  is  the  great  offender  ? Is  the  one 
lie  he  repents  of  the  most  wicked,  or  are  those  that 
with  small  temptation  he  flung  about  daily,  and  so 
made  that  one  notable  lie  easy  ? Fated  to  be  Free . 

December  24 — — 

Deep  the  snow-drift  covereth  all, 

Stars  do  sparkle  as  they ’d  fall ; 

Hark  ! the  waits  come  down  the  street, 

Heart  o’  mine,  their  news  is  sweet. 

Nay,  I care  not  for  the  cold. 

Hearkening  thus  good  tidings  old  ; 

“ Wake  ! you  friends  and  neighbors,  wake  ! 
Thank  the  Lord  for  Christ,  His  sake. 

Poems . 


274 


December  22 


December  23 


December  24 


December  25 


It  was  so  long  ago, 

But  God  can  make  it  now , 

And  as  with  that  sweet  overflow, 

Our  empty  hearts  endow ; 

Take,  Lord,  those  words  outworn, 

Oh  ! make  them  new  for  aye, 

Speak  — “ Unto  you  a child  is  born,” 
To-day  — to-day  — to-day. 

Poems , 


— December  26 


But  once  more  He  comes  from  God, 

Master  of  this  earthly  sod ; 

Then  the  proud  shall  meet  rebuff, 

Then  the  poor  shall  have  enough  ; 

Then  the  mourners  glad  shall  be, 

Then  th’  oppressed  shall  go  free  ; 

Bide  in  hope,  He  comes  again, 

Sleep  and  rest.  He  comes  to  reign. 

Poems. 

— December  27 


God’s  great  Gift  to  man  forlorn, 
In  a winter  night  was  born ; 
Angels  tell  the  glorious  tale, 

Let  not,  earth,  thy  welcome  fail. 
“ All  hail,”  and  “all  hail.” 


Poems . 


276 


December  25 


CHRISTMAS  DAY. 


December  26 

ST.  STEPHEN. 


December  27 

ST.  JOHN , EVANGELIST. 


277 


December  28 


He  had  a smile  that  was  worth  watching  for,  it  was 
so  sunny  and  tender,  such  a strange  contrast  to  the 
grave  cast  of  his  features,  the  steady  manliness  of  his 
demeanor,  and  the  somewhat  masterful  way  in  which 
he  worked  and  ruled. 

Off  the  SkelZigs. 


December  29 

On  Zion’s  hill  the  sacred  dust 
Lies  bare  ’neath  arid  skies ; 

From  ruined  walls  her  sons  are  thrust, 
Foregone  her  sacrifice. 

But  Zion’s  voice  lives  yet ; and  brought 
Adown  the  ages  ring 
The  songs  of  praise  he  sweetly  taught 
That  was  her  shepherd  king. 

Poems . 

— December  30 

Yellow  leaves,  yellow  leaves, 

Faded  and  few, 

What  will  the  spring  flowers 
Matter  to  you  ? 

“ We  shall  not  see  them, 

When  gaily  they  bloom, 

But  sure  they  will  love  us 
For  guarding  their  tomb,” 

The  Lost  Wand . 


278 


December  28 

HOLY  INNOCENTS. 


December  29 


December  30 


— - December  3 1 — — - 

The  year  passetli  — it  and  all 
God  shall  take  and  shall  let  fall 
Soon,  into  the  whelming  sea 
Of  His  wide  eternity  : 

O,  for  Jesus’  sake, 

Wake! 

Noiseless  as  the  flakes  of  snow 
The  last  moments  falter  and  go 
The  time-angel  sent  this  way 
Sweeps  them  like  a drift  away : 
O,  for  Jesus’  sake, 

Wake  ! 


Poems. 


280 


December  31 


\ 


KOBEETS  BEOTHEES’  EDITIONS, 


The  Works  of  Jean  Ingelow. 

Handsomely  bound  in  Cloth.  Each  volume  may 
be  had  separately. 

“ I greatly  wish  that  Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers  might 
have  the  exclusive  right  to  publish  my  books  in  A merica.  I 
consider  that  enlightened  nations , as  well  as  individtials , ought 
to  recogtiize  the  right  of  authors , both  to  power  over  arid  to 
property  in  their  works,”  — Jean  Ingelow. 


POEMS. 

Cabinet  Edition,  i vol.  i6mo  $1.50 

Diamond  Edition,  i vol.  Square  i8mo 1.00 

Household  Edition,  i vol.  i6mo • • -75 

Household  Edition,  i vol.  i6mo.  Gilt  edge  . . . i.oo 


Household  Red  Line  Edition,  i vol.  i2mo.  Gilt  edge  2.00 
Red  Line  Illustrated  Edition,  i vol.  Square  i2mo  2.50 

Home  Edition.  i8mo 75 

London  Illustrated  Edition.  8vo 7.50 

All  the  above  except  the  Home  Edition  have  a 
fine  steel  engraved  portrait. 

SONGS  OF  SEVEN.  Illustrated.  8vo 2.50 

i2tno 1.50 

“ Cheap  edition.  Paper  .20 

Flexible  30 

THE  SHEPHERD  LADY.  Illustrated  Royal  8vo  . 3.50 


The  IV orks  of  Jean  Ingelow. 


PROSE. 

OFF  THE  SKELLIGS.  A Novel.  i6mo  . . . $1.50 

FATED  TO  BE  FREE.  A Novel.  i6mo  ....  ,.50 
SARAH  DE  BERENGER.  A Novel.  z6mo  . . . x.50 
DON  JOHN.  A Novel.  i6mo GO 

JEAN  INGELOW’S  NOVELS, 

4 vols.,  may  be  had  uniformly  bound  in  a new  style  of  binding, 
imitation  half  calf.  Price,  $5.00. 

STUDIES  FOR  STORIES.  Illustrated.  ,6mo  . . £1.25  ! 

STORIES  TOLD  TO  A CHILD.  First  and  Second 

Series.  Illustrated.  i6mo.  Each  .......  1.25 

A SISTER’S  BYE  HOURS.  Illustrated.  r6mo  . . 1.25 

MOPSA  THE  FAIRY.  A Story.  Illustrated  . . . 1.25  ^ 

i 

♦ l 

Sent  by  mail , post-paid,  by  the  Publishers , 

ROBERTS  BROTHERS, 

Boston. 


